


Where I Belong

by sophies_choice



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha!John, Alpha!Sam, Alpha/Omega, First Time Heat, Gen, M/M, Omega!Bobby, Sibling Incest, Wincest - Freeform, omega!dean, weescest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-18
Updated: 2015-01-09
Packaged: 2018-02-09 09:23:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 36,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1977585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophies_choice/pseuds/sophies_choice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean doesn't know what Alpha or Omega means until John drops him off at Bobby's without a word.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This first part is young!dean finding out what he is without anyone telling him. His body is changing and he doesn't know why but his dad brings him to Bobby who wears a bracelet like other people do and Dean knows something is wrong, even if he doesn't understand it.
> 
> So the whole Alpha/Omega world/concept has been so interesting.. figured I'd try my hand at it.

Dean is 12 years old when John drops him off at Bobby's for the first time. He doesn't bring Sam along, leaves him back in Kansas with a friend, snuck Dean out while he was still asleep so he wouldn't raise hell.

It's almost dark outside when they get there and Bobby meets them at the door.

"Thanks for doing this, Bobby," John sighs and Dean can tell he's not staying with them as he watches his father hand over his duffle bag.

Bobby nods without a word and ushers the both of them inside. "Coffee before you go?" And John gives a curt nod, "Dean, there're some books upstairs in my room I want you to look at, go check them out," Bobby jerks his head toward the hall.

Dean watches them silently and nods before he leaves; he turns to his father. "You're going to come back for me, right?"

And John gives him a painful grin. "You bet," he reaches out and pats his shoulder, slides his massive hand up Dean's neck and gives it a gentle squeeze in promise. "I'll be back in a few days and then we'll have a talk."

"But Sam-"

John cuts him off quick. "Sam will be fine. We'll come get you soon," he reassures then just looks at him thoughtfully before he takes his hand back and sighs. 

Dean chews at his bottom lip. "Ok. Just, you know, watch out for Sam for me," Dean pleads with his father who smiles sadly.

"Sure thing. Now, go look at those books while Bobby and I talk some, ok?" 

Dean wants to give his dad a hug, but they're not that type of family, not really, not since mom died. So he gives his dad one more look, it's goodbye for now and heads up the stairs.

Bobby's room is dark, Dean has to turn the light on and like he said, there are a few books on the bed. He walks over and picks one up.

 _Heat: A Guide to All You Need to Know_ , Dean feels his stomach drop, and grabs for another one. _So You're an Omega, Doesn't Mean Your Life is Over._ Reaches for another, _Omega Laws_ , and Dean opens the book, it's huge pages with tiny writing from top to bottom and dread sets in, the kind he feels when dad doesn't come home when he said he would.

Dean flips the pages and comes to a picture, something that looks like a necklace, like the ones he sees people wear and something like a bracelet, the same kind that Bobby has. 

He reads the caption, the only words on the page. 

_Once claimed by an Alpha mate or until the age of 18, whichever comes first, an Omega, by law, must wear the government registered collar or bracelet at all times._

Dean slams the book closed and rushes out of the room, flies down stairs as quietly as possible and skids to a quiet stop in the hallway just before the kitchen. He can see Bobby and his father sitting at the table, two glasses filled with something that doesn't look like coffee. 

They're talking quietly, almost afraid Dean will hear them, but as Dean sneaks up just a bit more and sits with his back against the wall and hidden in darkness as he listens.

"Didn't know it'd hit this early," John mutters and takes a drink.

Bobby takes a deep breath. "It's about right on time, John, but it hasn't come just yet. He'd know it," Bobby pauses for a second, "well, he'd know something's different."

John nods. "I can smell it coming on," John's voice deepens, unhappy, a little worried and Dean doesn't know why. "Sam's not going to understand when I come back without him, but Sam, he's already showing signs and I just couldn't- as close as they are-"

"Too early to worry about that, John," Bobby says. "No need to poke at it until it happens."

"Yeah."

Dean chances a glance over at them and his dad looks tired, Bobby keeps drinking. His stomach knots and a flash of heat scrawls under his skin, as he scrambles to his feet and heads back up to Bobby's room, his breath coming up short. Something is supposed to happen to him, his frantic eyes land back on the books and he walks over to it. 

His hand trembles as he grabs for the last book, a picture book. _All You Need to Know about Your First Heat with Pictures!_ And Dean opens the book shakily. The first thing he sees is a naked woman and a naked man. The next page has the two in a bed, their legs open so Dean can see it all, every naked inch of the woman's parts and the man's parts. Dean's whole body shudders unpleasantly, he's never seen anything like this before and it's alarming. Sweat beads cling to his temples and his stomach churns. 

_During a heat the Omega body experiences it's first slick. Slick is the self lubrication an Omega produces, which exudes enticing pheromones to attract and sexually accommodate an Alpha during an Omega's heat._

Dean throws the book aside and tries to breathe. He doesn't know what the hell any of this means. What the fuck is an Omega? What the fuck is an Alpha? He's never even heard these words before and soon he finds himself running back out to his father. 

But John is gone and Bobby is sitting at his desk reading the newspaper. He looks up as soon as Dean flies in, chest heaving, looking faint, it feels like he can't breathe.

"Calm down, son," Bobby gets to his feet and in his hand is a crumpled brown paper bag. He guides Dean to the sagging couch and tells him to breathe into the bag. "Your dad left about five minutes ago," he runs a hand up and down Dean's back in comfort. "Bet you got a lot of questions," he says and Dean nods breathing in and out, in and out.

His stomach doesn't feel better, the sweat is getting worse, and he feels a headache coming on, starting just between his eyes. 

"Well I'm here if you wanna ask," Bobby assures him and Dean looks at him, eyes wet with confusion. 

He doesn't know what the hell is going on, what those books are for but then a pain so strong sears across his back he cries out and collapses against Bobby. 

"It's starting, kid," Bobby frowns and pulls him tight to his body, he smells almost sweet, like red licorice, honey and something else, like rubbing alcohol dad uses when they get hurt. Dean's never noticed before.

"Bobby, I don't-" a tickle forms in the pit of his stomach and it rattles against his bones, making the hair at the back of his neck, on his arms stand up. "What's happening?" he gasps as soon as a wave of something so nice rolls down his body. 

Bobby sniffs and he makes Dean stand up on his feet, "Come on, Dean, need to get you into the basement," he murmurs and Dean looks up at him, tears pooling around his eyes. 

"Bobby, I feel-what's," and he shivers suddenly, so desperate and tired at the same time. His body feels out of control and he doesn't know what it means. Why he feels like this. 

Bobby guides him down stairs into a room he never knew about and presses him down on the bed. "Don't get up," Bobby orders and Dean groans, straining against the mattress.

What. Is. Happening?

"Bobby!" Dean cries out clutching at the blankets, curling into himself and then he feels it, a warm sticky feel slithering out of him, into his shorts, down his legs and Dean's eyes jump to Bobby, wide and terrified. Just like they said in the books and Dean jolts up.

Bobby looks at him and it makes his stomach twist, it's like he knows; like he can feel what Dean is going through. 

"It's gonna get worse, Son. This is just the beginning," Bobby frowns and walks over to him, sitting right there, right beside him and Dean cries out when another wave washes over him. "I'll help as much as I can," he rubs Dean's back slowly, "I'll be right here."

 

His heat last a grueling five days. 

On the third day Bobby brings him a toy, something that's slim and vibrates when he twists the end of it. Bobby doesn't tell him what is or how to use it, but just hands it over to him and tells him to figure it out. 

It takes Dean a couple hours before he finally decides to press the tip of the toy against the slick coming out of him when he realizes what it's for.

He groans with relief and the next time Bobby comes down with bottles of water and food they don't mention it. 

 

On the sixth day Dad and Sam come to pick him up. Sam catapults himself onto Dean and wraps his lanky arms and legs around his body and holds him tight. 

"Dean," he laughs gleefully, just so happy to see him and squeezes the breath from him. "Are you better now? Dad said you were sick. Is it because I gave you my cold?" he rambles and Dean lets him because he hasn't seen or felt his brother in what feels like weeks.

John looks at him with a timid smile. "You ok, son?" he asks and Dean looks at him over Sam's shoulder and nods.

He feels normal. Like he did before anything happened to him. His dad still looks sad when their eyes meet and Dean holds Sam tighter, before he tells him to let go.

"Go say hi to Bobby," Dean tells him and Sam bounds inside calling for Bobby.

John looks down at his son and Dean lowers his eyes.

"So I'm," he mutters, "I'm an Omega," Dean says and looks at his dad solemnly. "I'm sorry," he apologizes because he's the oldest and he knows, without his father saying it, that it's disappointing. From what he's read and what Bobby has told him, the first born in a family is usually an Alpha, it's in very rare occasions that an Omega is first in the family lineage. 

It's hard to grasp when Dean was told about it since he is the first born.

John waves him over and they walk to the impala together; John grabs him under his arms and pulls up onto the roof so his feet dangle over the edge. 

"Did Bobby tell you about this?" his father asks and Dean nods.

"Heats come every few months," Dean reiterates what Bobby told him. "I need to have a collar or bracelet by the time I'm 18," he adds and John sighs heavily. “Unless I find a ma-" his voice breaks off because he can't even imagine what's to come when he's older. Instead he thinks about family, family, after all is the most important thing. "Sammy-”

“Alpha. At least-at least what I can feel,” John confirms what Dean has been worrying about since he’s learned so much of this whole new world.

Dean nods and takes in a deep breath.

“Look, Dean,” John starts, leaning against the hood of the car, “I don’t know if Bobby told you but there’s a way out of these…” he pauses for a second, “heats,” he finally says and Dean looks at his dad. “They have pills, to make it so that you don’t have to go through it.”

Bobby told him about it as soon as the pressure and desire of mating calmed down. Dean knows what these pills do to an Omega’s body. It's still hard to wrap his 12 year old brain around.

“You’re young,” John speaks carefully, “most Omega’s wait until they’re older but you,” he breaks out and runs a hand down his face, this is hard for him, Dean can sense it. “What we do, it’d be better if-”

Dean knows where this conversation is going and it’s not like he didn’t think about it. He may only be 12 but life with Dad and Sammy has never been normal. He knows things, has seen things that most people don’t. He knows what his father does when he leaves them in a musky hotel room, only to come back bloody and cut up, bruises so bad his dad cries out when Dean tries to fix him.

“I want the pills,” Dean finally finds the strength to speak. He looks at his Dad who’s so sad and so sorry. He wonders for a moment if he really cares, at least the way he wants him to. “If they’re going to help, then yes,” Dean nods, clamping his hands together, gripping at his finger, “I want the pills. I want to help,” he looks up at his dad. “Could I-” he swallows, worries so terribly that his father will forsake him from the family business, “Will you still teach me?”

And John laughs brokenly and wraps his arms around Dean’s shoulders pulling him in so tight. “Nothing’s going to change, Dean, they won't even know,” John murmurs against his hair, brushing the small tear that falls from Dean’s face away with fatherly touch, the softest touch he's felt in years. “You’ll be great,” he says and it sounds like a promise, which his father never gives and Dean wraps his arms around his strong body. “No one will ever know,” John whispers and Dean nods. "We'll make sure of that.

Dean sighs and closes his eyes enjoying the heat of his father, of the alpha that protects him.

No one will know.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is dealing with being an Omega trying to suppress his natural state, but it will catch up to him.

Dean sits on the toilet rolling the small green bottle between his hands. He’s been taking them for two years now. Dad got them as soon as he agreed to them; Bobby gave him a few from his own stock to get him started and the rest John bought when Dean and Sam were eating burgers and watching movies, holed up in their latest motel stop.  
     
Dean hasn't skipped one dose.

He opens the bottle and shakes one out, tiny little pill, no bigger than a sunflower seed and twists the cap back on as he tosses the pill into his mouth and takes a drink from the glass of water on the counter. 

“Dean, I've gotta go!” Sam shouts through the door and Dean shoves the bottle into his front pocket and dumps out what’s left in the glass into the sink.

“Give me a second, Sam!” he yells out and turns on the sink, wetting his face, the back of his neck. Cooling down, his body heat always surges up, simmers the first few moments after he takes the pill. Dad mentioned something about how the Omega body reacts negatively to the suppressant. It doesn't hurt it’s just unpleasant, much like the first drink of hard liquor.

Bobby tells him, it burns after taking the pill because the pill goes against the natural function of an Omega’s system.

_“It ain’t supposed to be, son,” Bobby sighs over the phone, “but over time you’ll get used to it. Won’t feel it at all eventually. You’re still a kid, gonna be tough for a couple more years. This is the time your body's supposed to grow and get accustom to being an Omega. Those pills are just making it go all screwy, stopping the natural growth and all, ain’t normal and your body knows it.”_

Dean looks at himself in the mirror. Water drops slide down his nose, over his mouth, caught in his eyelashes. He _is_ still a kid, 14 years old, only two years into his Omega spurt. He doesn’t really look like an Omega, at least not like the ones in the books Bobby showed him. The men are slighter, softer around the edges; he does have a pretty face though, a principal trait of Omegas, delicate facial features, it’s all the better to attract a good mate. But he’s growing big, shoulders wide and set, gaining muscle from all the sparing and training his dad puts him through, preparing him to be a good hunter, just like him. 

Despite the initial burn, the pills seem to be working just as Bobby said they would. No heats, no overwhelming pheromones; Dad tells him he doesn’t smell like an Omega anymore, who's normally just a bit sweeter, enticing. He hasn’t had any issues with Alphas when picking Sammy up from school and more importantly, Sam hasn’t said anything. Not mentioned a difference between them at all. 

John also found a special kind of deodorant, formulated with alpha essence that helps mask any scent that could seep out on accident. 

“Come on, Dean!” Sam yells after a minute and Dean grabs for the hand towel and wipes himself dry just as he reaches for the lock and Sam flies in shoving Dean aside so he can use the toilet.

“Damnit, Sammy, can’t you wait for me to leave?” Dean punches him on his way out and closes the door behind him. He eyes the motel room warily. Dad has been out on a hunt for three days already, should be coming back.

“Dean,” Sam walks out of the bathroom drying his wet hands all over his shirt. “I’m hungry, can we eat?” he asks him with a hopeful smile. 

It’s getting dark outside and Dean glances at the clock, almost seven-thirty. It’s definitely time they have some dinner. He pulls out the flimsy wad of bills he has left, about fifteen bucks, enough for tonight and maybe breakfast. There’s a cheap taco truck down the street from the motel that stays out pretty late, he could walk down there and pick them up some food and wouldn’t leave Sam alone for long.

“You doing your homework?” he asks, grabbing his jacket and Sam nods, jumping on the bed, his textbook and notebook flopping up into the air for a second. “I could use some help with math though,” he crosses his legs and sets the text book on his lap. “Think you can help me?” he asks with a smile.

Dean frowns with a sigh. “I can give it a try, Sammy, when I get back,” he nods. “Do what you can while I’m gone. Won’t take me too long.”

Sam nods and picks up his pencil, sliding the tip of the eraser right between his lips as he starts back up on his homework.

Dean smiles, a bit sadly, he doesn’t really know if he can help Sam with his homework, being home schooled by a father who is hardly ever around has stunted his educational growth and he knows it, thank god for Bobby who taught him how to read and arithmetic. When he gets the chance they study history and social sciences together. Sam knows so much more than he ever did at 10. Dean tries not to let it bother him. John pulled him out of school so early so he could take care of Sam and sometimes Dean resents his father for that. How helpful could he be when Sam has proper teaching while he doesn't?

But he makes due with what he has and even ventures on his own to learn more.

"I'll be back in a bit," Dean announces and heads for the door. 

As soon as they're eating they get a phone call. It's Dad and he sounds winded.

"You boys ok?" he asks and Dean glances over at Sam who's stuffing his mouth with carne asada tacos and a Sprite.

"Eating dinner," Dean tells him.

John hums over the line. "Almost done here, should be back tomorrow. Make sure Sam gets to school on time, we'll be leaving as soon he gets out tomorrow, ok?"

And Dean sighs. "Yeah," he answers, he's used to it but Sammy hates just up and leaving in the middle of school. Can't get the same education when he's bouncing from school to school. Luckily winter break is close and it won't be so bad. 

"So you'll be back tomorrow then?" he asks him and John sighs.

"Yes. Dean, I'm counting on you to get everything ready, understand?" John speaks, "make sure everything is ready by the time I get there."

"Yes, Sir," he states and glances at Sam who's sucked into the movie on TV, probably hasn't heard a word of their conversation. "We'll be ready to go, Dad. Wanna talk to Sam?"

Sam looks up, expectantly and bright.

"Don't have time, gotta go. Tell him I will see him tomorrow," John says and drops the call before Dean can say another word. 

Sam still looks hopeful but Dean hangs up the phone and feels the need to make Sam feel better kick in. So he lies for his father, even if it's the wrong choice. "Dad's friend needed to talk to him and had to go," Dean lies, if only to see that understandable nod from his little brother. "Still need help, Sammy?" he asks to take his mind off his father's absence.

Sam nods and scoots over on the bed, he grabs for his work and Dean slides in beside him, taking a look at the math problem. 

It's fairly simple, fractions, and Dean feels thrilled he actually knows what to do to help out. He glances at Sam and considers for a moment if Sam is just fucking with him, and really just wants Dean to feel needed. Sam is fully aware that Dean is not enrolled in school, sometimes complains about him not having to deal with homework, sometimes throws it in Dean's face but then there are other times, times when Sam sits on his empty bed and asks Dean to help him with a word in his English book or asks him about a symbol in one of the books Dad makes them read and Dean feels grateful for it. Sam makes sure to make him feel needed and that's the best feeling in the world.

 

Dean’s waiting for Sam when someone steps up beside him, tall, strong; scent so powerful Dean feels overwhelmed by it but tries to ignore him.

"Trying to pretend, are you?" his deep voice rolls out like dark molasses. "Covering up your scent?"

Dean finally chances at look at him and frowns. He's doesn't look much older than him, seventeen, maybe eighteen, square jaw, broad shoulders. "I don't- I don't know what you're-"

"Taking those black market pills are you?" he cuts him off and steps even closer, so close dean can feel the arms of their jackets brush together, breathing in his scent.

Dean feels a horrible sweat shudder through him, heart starting to race. 

The stranger leans in low to his level, mouth hot against his ear. "They won't fool us all," he whispers and presses a hand to the small of Dean's back. "And you smell _delicious_ ," he groans indecently.

"Dean!" Sam yells from across the parking lot and Dean hasn't heard the sound of something so amazing as his brother's voice. Salvation. He doesn't spare another glance at the Alpha and heads for Sam, taking long determined strides. "Who is that?" Sam asks as soon as Dean takes his backpack from him and slings it around his arm, gripping Sam's wrist. 

"Never mind that," Dean grits between clenched teeth and guides him down towards the Main Street. "Got to get back to the room and pack. Dad should be here soon."

 

John is sitting on one of the beds when Dean and Sam walk through the door. 

"Dad!" Sam cries as soon as he sees him and heads for the bed, hoping to get a hug, but John isn't the hugging type and just pats him on the shoulder, much to Sam's obvious disappointment.

"Need to pack and head out," John states and looks right at Dean disappointingly, it is his job, after all, to get everything ready. “Get your stuff boys, no time to clean, just get ready,” John orders and the both of them nod.

 

They’re heading towards Boston, from what his Father told them after they left the motel. Dean shifts uncomfortably in his seat and Sam is sleeping in the back seat, breathing heavily through his nose.

“An Alpha caught my scent today when I went to pick up Sam,” Dean says quietly, he hopes his Father can hear it over the blast of the music from the speakers.

John turns to him sharply, eyes dark. “You haven’t been skipping-” and Dean shakes his head before he can finish the sentence. Never would.

“Every day,” he tells him, “and the deodorant. I don’t skip at all,” he assures him with as much strength as he can manage, but he's terrified. “I thought they wouldn’t be able to sense me.”

John moves restlessly in his seat, eyes on the road. “Some Alpha’s have a superior sense of smell, stronger than most,” John sniffs, as if to prove a point. “The pill's main function is to suppress heats, when that happens the body doesn’t produce the same amount of pheromones, therefore your scent's weakened,” John tells him, like he's memorized it from a book. “Doesn’t mean it will mask it from everyone,” he informs; there’s a sense of strain to his voice. “Dean-”

Dean shifts in his seat in discomfort. “I thought the pills were supposed to stop everything, they’re supposed to make it so that other Alphas can’t sense me,” he frowns and glances back at Sam who’s still sleeping soundly. “Dad if it’s not working-”

But John reaches out and grasps his wrist tightly. “Dean, there’s no need to worry about it, the pills are working,” John tries to calm him. “Yes, there are some Alphas who will still be able to catch your scent but it’s not common. I promise you, what we’re doing is good.”

And Dean turns his eyes to his father, wet with apology. “I’m sorry,” he mutters. “I’m trying my best to stop it. I’m trying hard to-”

And John pulls over to the side of the road suddenly, cutting the engine. He turns to his son. “We’ll up the dose,” he says, hands clenching at the steering wheel. “You’ll take two at a time,” he says and Dean nods.

“Sammy hasn’t said anything,” Dean feels the need to add because Sam is clearly an Alpha, even if he hasn’t said it himself but he’s in school and Dean knows they’re talking about it so he’s bound to bring it up soon and Sam is strong. Stronger than he remembers being when he was Sam's age. “What if he senses that I’m-”

And John turns to him sharply, “He won’t,” he says resolutely, “at least not right now. I don’t know how strong he’ll be, but right now-right now we’re ok. He won’t catch the scent.”

And Dean nods. It’s not that he’s worried about Sam, he’ll grow to his full potential, strong and big and the perfect mate for someone, Dean will make sure of that. "Why didn't you tell me before it happened?" Dean asks the question that's been plaguing his mind since he found out what he was.

John stays quiet, breathing, making sure Sam is still asleep and Dean can feel him thinking, figuring out what to say. "I pulled you out of school so early to take care of Sammy," he starts and he looks ragged, like he's been caught. "You would have been taught all about this, the differences between us," and he means Alphas and Omegas, because they are different. Dean is different from his father and Sam. "Look, I didn't think you'd have to worry about it, I was sure you'd be an Al-" and his father's words catch in his throat. 

"You thought I'd be an Alpha," Dean finishes for him, because his father is strong and powerful and of the desired race. It probably never occurred to him that his first son would be less than. It's something that Dean has worried over since his first heat two years ago.  
   
Omegas _are_ different. They're lesser, submissive and supposed to be weaker than their stronger counterpart. Omegas are for the taking, to be caught by an Alpha so they can be taken cared of, bred for childbearing. Omegas don't hold superior positions in the law or businesses. The world as an Omega is confined to be a second class citizen and Dean, he can't find it in himself to accept this is the life sanctioned for him. 

"I know I made a mistake taking you out of school, I haven't been around to teach you but-" he swallows heavily, struggling. "But, Dean, I needed you to be there. After your mother-" he cuts off painfully and Dean can see the rare emotion in his father's eyes, overwhelming his expressions, "I needed you to take up the role and if that meant keeping you from knowing-from understanding," John frowns, "I wouldn't go back and change it. I did what I had to and I know it's not what should've happened but- but I make no apologies," he turns and looks at Dean right in his eyes, so steadfast and resolute. "It's what I had to do," he finishes and starts the car again. 

Dean gives him a nod of understanding because this is his father, telling him truths where he normally mouths lies and he appreciates it, even if he doesn't agree with it.

"So, Sammy," Dean starts, "if he has questions-"

"Do the right thing and tell him," John rolls the impala back into the road, "but don't tell him that you're-don't bring that up," he states. "He doesn't need to know, you understand?"

And Dean nods with a heavy resolution. "I'll make sure he doesn't find out, Dad," Dean says quietly. "He'll be all you wanted." And Dean turns in his seat and watches his little brother sleep. "He'll be amazing," he whispers too low for John to hear. That's what he needs to do, not only as an older brother but as-Dean breathes painfully, he'll do it because it's his place, it's what his father wants. Dean glances back at Sam and feels an overwhelming wave of possessiveness. It's his job, his job to help Sam, raise him to his full potential and nothing is going to change that.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean celebrates his 16th birthday in the emergency room.

He doesn't actually remember what happened, but from what his father told him, he fell about three stories from a tree, apparently chasing Sam.

He's got a broken arm, broken leg and a few cracked ribs. It would be his luck to celebrate a milestone birthday in a hospital but Dean has never really relied on luck.

 

He wakes up with needles poking at his arm a sweet smelling nurse smiling comforting down at him .

"Good to see you're awake, Dean. How are you feeling?"

"I'm ok," he says quietly, glancing over at his father and Sam who's sobbing into his sweat shirt. He offers the faintest of smiles. "Everything still working?"

The nurse, Rachel, pats his shoulder gently. "Mostly,” she smiles, “gonna take you into surgery soon, get that leg fixed, arm took no time, it should be just as easy for the rest." 

Dean nods slowly, eyes on his family. "Ok," he sighs when a soft, warm comfort folds through his body. "Not gonna die am I?" he asks and Rachel laughs, the sound so sweet and pretty. 

"No, sweetheart."

"Ok," Dean sighs, "Sammy, c'mere," he says once the nurse leaves and Sam jolts up, face pink with flush and guilt.

"Dean," he hiccups, tears leaking from the corner of his eyes. " _Dean_ ," he whispers, so pitifully and sad it hurts him to see his little brother like that. 

"You stop crying now, ok?" he reaches out and smooths a lazy hand against the slick of Sam's cheek, his skin so warm and soft. Sam's shaking under Dean's palm as he nods. "Come on, get on up here."

John shifts in his seat. "Dean, no time for that. They're going to take you into-"

"Until they come get me then," Dean spears his father’s eyes sharply, wants him to understand this is his decision and it’s what he wants. John breathes through his nose and Dean turns away looking at Sam. Sam’s eyes glistening, ready to spill, lips trembling. "You get up here and don’t hurt me, understand?” he asks and Sam nods.

Dean can see John’s eyes on them, watching carefully, just in case he has to intervene but Sam is delicate as can be, not hitting his ribs or arm, crawling up his body without an inch of added pain. He smells bitter and full of regret and Dean wraps his good arm around him. “It’s ok, Sammy, I’m ok.”

“I’m so sorry, Dean,” he whispers, mouth tucked into Dean’s neck, breathing so slow, trying not to hurt him. “God, I’m sorry. It was my fault. My stupid fault.”

John still watches them. Dean ignores his intense gaze and looks down at his brother, he smiles as best as he can.

“Don’t you say that. It’s ok, Sammy. I’m ok.”

Sam curls around him like a starfish, arms wrapped so tight, making sure to avoid unnecessary pain, as much as he can. “Please don’t hate me, Dean, I’m sorry.”

"Hey, don’t say that. Can’t hate you, not ever,” Dean pulls back just for a second, palming Sam’s cheek, slighting his head up, just so their eyes meet, deep apologies seeking forgiveness. “Will never hate you, Sammy, you got it?” When Sam doesn’t move, doesn’t answer Dean’s nudges him just a bit, just so he can see him in full again and Sam has tears on his cheeks, sweet, beautiful drops of emotion caught in his eyelashes, sliding down over his lips. Dean pulls him in so tight, forgetting his father is even there, doesn’t need him, not really, not when his world is pressed against him, making hushed apologies against his neck.

 

Dad takes them to Bobby's after he gets out of the hospital. 

"Don't want you boys alone while you're like this," he says on the drive over. 

Dean, slightly high from his meds, nods with a yawn, trying to get comfortable in the back seat. Through the haze of his medicated brain he can see his father's eyes in the rear view mirror watching them cautiously. Sam's asleep on his chest, fingers clutching around his t-shirt. 

"Bobby's gonna watch you, make sure you heal up those bones. Don't know anyone better to help," John says as Dean closes his eyes. "Sleep, kid, rest up some."

 

Sam won’t let him out of his sight, has tears in his eyes almost every moment they look at each other. 

"Do-do you need anything? Water? You must be thirsty, let me get you something. I asked Bobby to get you some root beer. The good kind, want one?" he asks and Dean nods pulling himself up against the headboard. 

"Sounds great, Sammy," he mutters painfully and glances at the clock. Time to take some meds, and his pills. Bobby appears in the doorway just as Sam leaves to get him that drink.

“How you feeling, Son?” Bobby asks, stepping into the extra room Dean’s been housed in for the last few days. “In pain?”

Dean shrugs with a frown. “The meds help,” he tells him and the bed dips as Bobby takes a seat. He’s careful not to rustle Dean and cause him unneeded pain. 

They sit in silence for a few moments, Bobby looks like he wants to say something but Dean doesn’t push him, doesn’t know really what to say, has thanked him a million times already for taking care of him and Sam in, doesnt think he can say it enough.

“So,” Bobby takes a deep breath, his fingers playing with the hunter green bracelet around his wrist, “I was thinking, since you’re out of commission until those bones heal, I reckon we should start preparing you to go back to school,” Bobby finally finds his words, rough and thick with consideration. 

Dean’s eyes jump to him, right into Bobby’s eyes and he holds his breath, waiting for him to say more.

“You’re not a dumb kid, Dean,” he says with care, eyes softer than Dean has ever seen them. “Haven’t had the proper education that Sam’s getting because of your Dad but, you ain’t a lost cause. Sammy’s old enough now, no reason for you to stay out of school.”

Dean feels his chest tighten, breath caught in his throat, words struggling to form around his dry mouth.

“So, I figure while we have the time and you’re stuck here, we get working. There’s a lot to cover, but I’ve got books you can use to study from. Sam and I can go to the library and get you other books, hell, I think Sam would get a kick out of it, play teacher for you."

And Dean smiles, eyes shining with overwhelming emotion. “Yeah?” he asks hoarsely and Bobby slides in closer, pressing a hand to Dean’s good leg, sweeping over in comfort, comfort so deeply desired. “You think I can learn?”

And it’s almost too much, too painful to see the battle of emotion cross Bobby’s normally stoic face, eyes hardened by his past, mouth tight from experience. The Bobby who’s looking at him now is open and emotional and Dean fights the surging explosion of feelings simmering under his nerves.

“Son, you’re no idiot, the way you pick up information your Dad and I throw at you. The research you do for us when we ask, yes-yes, Dean, you can learn.”

Dean clenches his fingers around the bed sheets and screws his mouth tight.

Sam dashes in with a root beer in his hand and tall glass filled with ice in the other. “There weren't any cold ones in the fridge so I got you some ice and it’ll taste just as good, Dean, promise.” Sam walks around the bed, crawling on top, careful not to drop either item in his hand and not hurt Dean at the same time. It doesn’t take long for him to feel the difference in the air. “What?” he turns to Bobby, eyes narrowed. “What’s wrong, somethin wrong?”

Dean reaches out and smooths a hand down Sam’s arm which relaxes his brother almost instantly, like a wonderful little magic drug. Sam turns and smiles at Dean like he’s the most important person in the world, forgetting that Bobby is even in the room. “Nothing’s wrong, Sammy. How about you pour me that drink and make me a sandwich? I’m pretty hungry,” he grins at him, playing up the injured invalid, “you think you can do that for me?”

Sam nods fervently, his eyes shining. Still looking so guilty and like he wants nothing more in the world to make Dean feel better. “Want grilled cheese?” he asks him, “Bobby, you got cheese and bread right? The good kind?” he turns his whole body towards their caretaker after he empties the can of soda into the cup and sets it on the nightstand, not too far for Dean to reach for. 

“Sure did, Kid,” the corner of his lips turn up in a quirky smile, “making me spend all my money getting you the _good stuff_ , gonna leave me penniless,” he reaches out and scratches his fingers through Sam’s hair who hums happily with the affection. “How bout you make a few of those sandwiches for all of us. I’ve got some tomato soup in the pantry, goes good with grilled cheese,” Bobby starts, “I’ll take Dean downstairs and we can watch some movies. Your choice. How’s that sound?”

Sam’s eyes light up at the very thought of it all, everyone together, acting like a family. It’s something Sam has been so desperate for since he could realize their family was different than most. He jumps off the bed. “Yes! Yes, that sounds awesome!”

He’s already running out of the room.

“You be careful with the stove, Sam,” Bobby adds just before he disappears down the hallway. “You need me to help you?” he asks and Sam shakes his head.

“I’ve got it covered, Bobby,” he grins big and happy and Dean feels his chest flutter with adoration and such powerful affection for Bobby, who makes happy memories for them when he can. “Be extra careful bringing Dean down, he's still hurt real bad, ok Bobby?” he pleads, eyes all shiny and worried again.

Dean laughs despite himself. “I’ll be fine, Sammy,” he waves him off and Sam nods, looks at his brother, so loving, so important, so wonderful before he heads out and disappears. 

They hear Sam clamber down the stairs before they turn to each other again.

Bobby clears his throat and scrubs at his beard. “So, the sooner we get started, the better. It’s gonna be tough, not gonna ease up on you, Boy. We have a lot of years to make up for,” Bobby warns him solemnly and Dean nods.

“Bring it on, Bobby,” he grins, reaching for the root beer, body strumming with excitement. “Think I could go back to school next year?” he asks him seriously and Bobby chews at his bottom lip in thought. “I’d be what, a junior?” he thinks about it and does the math quickly in his head. “Right?”

“If we get through everything. Need to measure your academic level. Shouldn’t be so hard to get that figured out,” Bobby pulls his cap up off his head and scratches through his wiry hair. “But we’ll figure something out, you up for it, Son?” he asks and Dean nods.

Dean reaches into the drawer of the nightstand and pulls out the green bottle with his pills, and his medication with a hiss, his body straining at the simple movement. He groans pathetically.

Bobby reaches out and grabs the bottles from him, sensing the pain of his strain as he untwists them both and shakes two pills out and a couple painkillers into his palm.

Dean thanks him silently with a smile as he reaches for the cup filled to the brim with root beer. They're both silent as he takes them all with a hiss and Bobby slides both pill bottles into the night stand. 

"We'll start tomorrow," Bobby speaks softly, "today," he pauses and smiles carefully, "today we'll have a good time. Eat, watch movies. I think there's a box of monopoly somewhere around here," he gives a wink and Dean grins, a sense of excitement he hasn't felt in a long time coarse evenly through his body. 

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Dean feels his muscles relax with pleasure from the pills and sighs with a soft rush of breath. “Thanks, Bobby, you’re the best.”

 

Dean finds out that he excels at history and sciences, thinks its the blooming hunter in him that helps but he hates Math, hates it as much as the green vegetables Bobby and Sam try to stuff down his throat.

 

“Dean, come on, I know you can do this,” Sam looks over the simple algebra worksheet he’s correcting. “What is the problem?” he looks up at his brother in frustration. Dean glares at him and his face falls.

They’ve been over this information over and over and _over_ again he just can’t deal with it. Hates it.

“I’m not good with math,” Dean huffs in annoyance scratching at his elbow, just above his cast and glares. “Ain’t gonna figure it out, Sam.”

But Sam’s fingers clench at the red pen in his hand as he moves to the man-made desk Bobby has set up for Dean. He drags his chair along with him and flops down beside him, their shoulders bumping annoyingly.

“Yes you are, concentrate! I know you know this, stop second guessing yourself. It’s like you’re not even trying!” he narrows his fox eyes at him, making them even smaller and intense. Dean catches a whiff of annoyance and narrows his eyes.

“Hey,” Dean barks, “Don’t you talk to me like that,” and regrets it almost immediately when Sam pulls back just a bit, eyes smoothing down, rushing over in apology.

“I’m sor-I’m sorry, Dean, I just want-”

Dean feels like an asshole and reaches out, grabbing Sam’s thin wrists, tugging him closer so he’s pressed against his side. It takes a moment but Sam relaxes. “Stop, I’m sorry. You’re right, I’m not concentrating,” he mutters, reaching up, running a hand along Sam’s neck, fingers playing into his hairline and Sam softens, opens up again like a warm blanket. 

“Remember that each letter signifies a number, so if a x 4 = 32, then you need to find out what number _a_ is. I know you know your times tables and if it doesn’t come so easily, I know you can divide, Dean. We worked on that three weeks ago. Remember?” Sam looks up at him.

The amazing thing about Sam, in all his intelligence and school education, he does everything in his power to make Dean feel just as smart, even when Dean feels like Sam and Bobby should give up on him.

“32 divided by 4 is 8,” Dean says softly, hand still brushing at Sam’s neck, nails scratching just delicately at the smooth skin. “Then that means, a = 8?”

Sam’s face breaks out in the biggest smile, eyes shining so bright and happy. “Good,” he nods and Sam buries in just a little closer to Dean’s side, warm and comfortable. “That’s right, see, I knew you could do it,” Sam whispers, almost to himself and Dean looks down at his brother, lashes so long they almost touch Sam’s cheeks. “You’re so smart, Dean,” he looks up and Dean catches a gentle whiff of Sam’s scent, swirling like kisses around his head, making him drunk with adoration. 

“Thanks, Sammy,” Dean slides his hand down and presses his fingertips to Sam’s waist, sliding against the worn t-shirt he wears, just over his stomach and Sam shudders, wispy and serene against Dean’s body. “Won’t give up on me, will you?” he presses his lips to Sam’s hair, holding him even tighter.

Sam hums, fingers playing with Dean’s good hand, plucking at them, pressing him closer, pulling at his fingertips, sliding their fingers together. “Never give up on you, Dean,” he looks up, eyes so reverent and sincere. “Always here for you. Always.”

Dean smiles and plants a kiss at his hairline. “All I want,” he whispers, “all I need, Sammy.”

 

While Sam is sleeping Bobby takes the time to teach Dean more about being an Omega and the laws of Alpha/Omega existence.

“So, even though I take the pills, I’ll still be attracted to Alphas?” Dean asks seriously, looking up from the book Bobby has him reading in exasperation. “Fuck, every time I think I know what’s happening to me, something new always pops up,” Dean throws the book aside in disdain, he’s tired. It’s late, all he wants to do is sleep and it’s making him grumpy. 

“Watch that language, son, talking to grown up here, got it?” Bobby narrows his eyes and Dean frowns with a solemn nod. “Look, there is still a lot that people don’t know about what the pill does, but there’s also a lot people don’t pay attention to when the information is slapping them in the face.”

Dean sighs and reaches for the book again. “You know, this sucks. It freaking sucks, Bobby. I thought these pills did a lot more than-”

Bobby takes a drink from his glass of brown liquid and nods in understanding. “I know, Dean, I know. This life, _us_ , what we’re doin, tryin to hide who we are, it ain’t easy,” he rubs a calloused hand down his face, scrubbing at his beard. “Those pills stop things from happening but our bodies, they don’t-” he pauses, has to think carefully about his words. “They don’t stop it all,” he sighs like a man with knowledge and experience. “Can’t fully suppress human nature,” he adds and Dean looks at him questionably.

He knows Bobby has more to say, fighting himself with the next information he needs to share.

“I’ve been using those pills long before you were born, kid, doesn’t mean it’s the answer,” Bobby turns to Dean and looks tired eyes right into him. “Sometimes your Daddy walks in, smellin the way he does and I feel-”

Dean groans and looks away, too personal. Too much information Dean thinks he’s too young to hear, doesn’t want to hear it, not when it’s Bobby talking, not when it deals with Dad and what he knows Omegas are supposed to feel. Supposed to do.

“Ain’t gonna go away altogether,” Bobby finishes his drink with a hiss, avoiding Dean’s eyes this time. “Some things the body doesn’t let go of and smelling an Alpha, wanting them, it doesn’t disappear, no matter how many pills you take, understand?”

And Dean nods, out of respect but he hates knowing the truth.

He may do everything he can, taking the pills, using the deodorant, it doesn’t stop it all. Makes him vulnerable and Dean thinks back at the Alpha who approached him months ago. He didn’t feel they way he’s supposed to feel. not towards him, not the way Bobby talks about it but then images of Sam filters in. His scent, his sweet, powerful smell brings Dean into the present and it makes him shiver.

Sam is an Alpha. Started sensing it about a year ago and Dean shudders.

“Sammy,” Dean speaks, even though he doesn’t want to mention it and he can see Bobby tense which only makes him worry more.

“Catching his scent?” Bobby asks him, his voice stern and serious. He eyes Dean carefully and Dean looks away, flushed and he knows it. “Dean, he’s your brother.”

Dean nods. “I know, but I-” he catches his voice, caught in the middle of his throat, rough and scratchy. “He’s always around me. Not saying I’m-” he swallows heavily, looking up at the ceiling, as if it will help the warmth snaking over him at the mere thought of his brother. “Just saying, I can smell him. I thought the pills would stop it, but, Bobby,” he feels his eyes wash over with emotion, “I smell him so strong.”

And Bobby moves up on the bed, wrapping an arm around Dean, pulling him close into an almost hug. “Gotta try,” he speaks softly, “can’t, Dean, not with Sam,” he says, “Understand?”

And the tears well up in Dean’s eyes, doesn’t know why, feels his body wilt in pain. “I’ll try,” he tries to breathe, thinking of Sam in the living room, sleeping on the couch, passed out from dinner and watching the Lion King, sleep soft and worn, body so warm and comforting.

He closes his eyes and revels in Bobby’s embrace, the smell of whiskey and licorice filling his senses. His heart doesn’t beat erratically when he’s with Bobby, makes him feel safe, makes him feel like this is home.

“Come on, we got a lot more to learn, Dean,” Bobby breaks through his wall of thought. “Still need to read while Sam’s asleep.”

Dean nods and pulls away, grabbing for the discarded book. “Fine,” he mutters and opens it back to last page he was reading.

 

Dad stops by in the middle of his studying, looking at Dean for a careful moment, asking him if he’s doing ok before he rushes Bobby into the kitchen.

Sam is in the bathroom taking a shower and Dean strains to hear their conversation, two rooms down the way.

_“Didn’t ask you to do this, Bobby!”_

_“You can’t keep that boy, dumb, John. Sam’s old enough,”_ Bobby counters with a rush of annoyance. _“Kept that boy outta school too long, needs to go back. He’s not gonna be any good to you if he doesn’t get the proper-”_

 _“Who the fuck do you think you are?”_ John sneers, deep and heavy and Dean can smell his father’s anger from the room he’s in. _“Who gives you the right to tell me what my son needs?”_

And Dean hears the shower stop upstairs. Worried eyes trained in the direction of his father and Bobby. 

_“You did! You did when you dropped them boys off at my doorstep. You think I don’t care about those kids, John? Runnin to every new hunt you can get your hands on. They need someone and if you aren’t gonna be there-”_

And Dean hears a sick connection of skin on skin, his stomach turning in horror.

_“Fuck, I’m sorry, Bobby-”_

_“Get outta my house, you sonofabitch.”_

And Dean sees Bobby making his way up the stairs without a glance back in the direction he came.

Dean fumbles with his history lesson as John appears, running his hands down his face, dirty fingernails scratching at his mouth.

“Learning a lot, Dean?” he asks him and Dean nods instantly, his fingers shaking so bad he grips at his pen and paper just to stop them from being seen.

“Bobby and Sam are helping me so I can go back to school,” he says honestly and watches his father rolls his eyes, shaking his head. “I can, right? I can go back to school, Sammy’s old enough.”

John walks towards Bobby’s desk, his fingers curling around the bottle of whiskey. Dean watches him pour himself a glass, ignoring him. It makes his heart pound in his chest, all this work done maybe for nothing. If his father doesn’t want him to go back to school, he won’t. The thought is terrifying. 

“Daddy-” he speaks and soon Sam rushes in, hair wet and matted against his scalp. 

“Dad!” he cries out excitedly, bounding for him, wrapping his arms around John’s waist.

Dean watches his father ignore the glass in his hand, taking a moment to rub a huge hand along Sam’s hair, down his neck, giving him a tight squeeze.

“Heard you’ve been helping Dean. Getting him ready for school?”

And Sam’s bright, beautiful eyes fall on his brother, making him suck in a breath, “Yeah, dad. Dean is so smart. He’s such a good student.”

John’s face softens in adoration at his younger son, his Alpha, “You been a good teacher for him?”

And Sam nods with a pretty glint in his fox eyes, colors so soft no one can tell what they are. “Dean’s been learning so much. Been passing all the lessons. Bobby and I quiz him all the time, passing with flying colors.”

Dean swallows heavily. “Come on, Sammy, don’t you lie to him, I’m not good at math.”

And Sam looks at his brother, sparkling and full of excitement, mouth split so wide in a smile Dean’s heart stops. “Shut up, Dean, you’re getting so much better. Gonna be just fine when you get into school.”

Dean glances at his father. 

“Well that’s good, Sammy, takin care of your brother. Helping him learn, that’s real good,” he finally takes that drink and Dean wants nothing more than to pull Sam back, away from John, hold him close. 

“Where’s Bobby?” Sam asks suddenly, looking around, can’t find him in the room, can’t hear him in the kitchen. “He’s been helping Dean too. A lot better at it than me,” he grins up at John who frowns and finishes his drink.

“Bobby was tired, needed to get some rest,” Dean lies before John can say anything and they share a look, a look that says everything, that Dean heard exactly what happened.

John nods and turns to his youngest. “That’s right, Sam, Bobby just needs some rest. How about you show me what you’re teaching Dean,” he says and Sam jumps up with excitement.

“It’s tough, stuff, Dad. Dean’s doin so good.”

Dean sits back and watches him silently while Sam heads for Bobby’s desk, pulling at drawers, grabbing tons of sheets of paper to show his father proudly.

Dean looks towards the staircase and wishes he could just get up and leave them, make sure Bobby’s alright but he can’t and it breaks his heart so he just sits there and listens while Sam explains everything to his father, feeling his chest harden.

He can’t wait until he’s out of the casts, able to move about like normal, if only it happened sooner than later.

 

Dean gets his cast off a few months later. It’s Spring time and the weather is cool, just as he likes it.

Dean looks up at Dr. Harper and offers the best smile he can. “Everything ok?”

And he nods. John is sitting in a seat, back from a two week hunt, back just to watch the casts come off. Didn’t bring Sam, much to his tears and begging. 

Before they left Dean wrapped his arms around Sam and held him, breathing him in, kissing his temple, promising it wouldn’t take long and to make him some tests to do when he got back.

“Everything has healed properly, looks good,” the doctor tells John and Dean looks at his father who catches his eyes with a pleased look.

“Good, to hear, Doc,” he says and Dean strums with excitement.

He’s dreamed of this day.

Feels better than he thought it would.

But he misses Bobby, wishes he came, was the plan but changed his mind when John appeared on the doorstep, bags heavy around his arms, eyes bloodshot and fingers bloody. Still sore about what happened and Dean can’t blame him, even if he hates the idea of doing it without both him and Sam.

Dean watches the doctor make some notes. 

“Want you to be careful, Dean, just because the casts are off doesn’t mean you can be wild. Your bones are still healing,” and Dean nods, eyes closing at the powerful scent of his doctor; dark, rich with sandalwood and oak. He sighs happily for a moment.

“Got it, doc,” Dean lifts his lashes up to him and smiles. Dr. Harper looks at him for a moment, takes in a deep breath and grins slowly.

“Good, make sure you take care of yourself,” he leans in and presses gentle hands to the skin just above Dean’s knee. “You feeling ok?”

And John stands up suddenly. “Looks like everything is good here, Doc. You just get those casts off, got it?”

And Dean turns his eyes to his father, shaking out the scent of his Alpha doctor, his father’s pheromones too powerful it brings him back into reality. Reminding him of who he is.

Dean turns worried eyes to his father who glares at him.

Dr. Harper nods and pulls away instantly. “We’ll get those casts off as soon as possible. Dean, you just sit tight.”

And Dean nods, not bothering to look at him, even though he feels the tug, the pull of an interested Alpha.

Ran out of pills a few days ago, ran out of the deodorant even earlier. He knows he must ooze the scent of an Omega and it’s killing him, but the sweet enticing scent of Dr. Harper makes him shudder. So this is what it would feel like if he was normal? Wanting and knowing. Knowing he’s desired.

Dean swallows his groan.

His doctor leaves the room and John turns to him, eyes sharp.

“You reek of it, Dean,” he says and walks to Dean, heavy steps intent and angry, can feel the heat coming off his father and Dean shies away in fear. “ _Damnit_ , Dean.”

“I-I’m sorry,” he stammers, it’s not his fault, it’s his dad who’s supposed to keep him stocked, called him a week ago to tell him was running low on the pills, dropped back down to one pill a day just to hold out long enough. “I called-”

But John comes up to the bed and he his anger is shed, his eyes softer somehow. “Sorry, kid, thought I’d get to you before you ran out. Sorry,” John says and reaches out, pressing a hand to Dean’s cheek, smoothing it down, rubbing gently, like he did when Dean was a kid.

Dean’s starved for it. Presses into his father’s touch wanting more. Aching, needing it.

“Sorry, dad,” he whispers looking at him, his body shaking with apology. “Thought I’d be ok.”’

But his father, for once in his life looks genuine. “No, I’m sorry, my fault for not getting to you sooner. Dean,” he shakes his head and moves away, leaving Dean empty and sad. “Can’t deal with this, thought I could but-” John takes a deep breath, his eyes dark, alpha dark and uncompromising.

Dean feels a sudden urge of worry. “Dad-”

“Look, I need to go-I need to get-” John scrubs his hand through his greasy hair, “Left the pills with Bobby, good for another year maybe,” he says moving to the door, and Dean struggles against his casts, the IV drips in his arms, keeping him still. 

“No. No, Dad-”

But John’s hand folds over the doorknob, fingers tight as they turn and pull it open. “Tell Sammy I’m sorry. I’ll be back, I will but I gotta-”

Dean’s eyes swim with tears, his heart breaking. “Dad-”

And John offers him one last sad glance. “Make sure you take care of yourself. I’ll come back, promise, just. I just can’t, not when you-” John grabs at the door handle. “Smell the way you do, Dean,” he shakes his head and thrusts the door open, leaving him.

Dean feels his body seize, pulled tight at his straining muscles and his chest hurting, heart thumping. 

His dad left him.

He’s gone.

It’s his fault, smells like them. Smells like an Omega and Dean rips the IVs from his arms, crying out in pain.

No, it’s not supposed to happen like this. His dad, his father is supposed to love him, try to take care of him. Dean feels his body wracked with sobs, tears pooling at his eyes, threatening to come out.

“Are you Ok? Dean-”

And Dean looks up to see his sweet nurse, frowning down at him. He can’t help it, her eyes so gentle, his eyes give out, his emotions flowing through his body, his loss, his pain, right under his skin and he cries. Crying cause he hates his life.

Hates it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it's been so long :( hope you enjoy!

John disappears for almost two months, leaving them at Bobby's for care. He calls every few weeks to let them know he's alive but is still busy with "work" just so no one worries that he's lying dead somewhere.

Dean, all fixed and healed up, is glad to know he's still breathing but doesn't forget that he was left stranded at the hospital, having to call Bobby to come pick him up once he was finished. That wound still hurts.

In the mean time Dean’s been helping Bobby when other hunters call for help, learning so much more about hunting and his studies continue; helping him get to where he needs to be on an academic level to start the new school year. 

Dean _feels_ smarter, not that he felt like a complete idiot before, just less than. He grew up knowing what he needed too, John made sure of that, taught him enough so he could keep up when it came to hunting. Even taught him Latin and despite everything else he didn’t learn, he somehow managed to grasp an archaic language with not much use in the real world. 

Despite his shortcomings, he still appreciates what John did teach him.

 

It's summertime, sun big and unforgiving and Bobby is tired of them sulking at the house, begging off to do something fun. He finally gives in the day Dean passes his drivers test, new license burning a hole on his wallet.

Bobby throws the keys at Dean. "Get on, get the hell outta here, tired of your complaining!" he barks as he grabs a beer and Dean grins, bright and thankful, catches the small smile playing at the corner of Bobby’s lips, trying to hide but it doesn’t work. Sam is bouncing with excitement.

"Let's go to the lake!" he suggests and Dean nods, wiping the sweat from his neck, feeling gross, the lake sounds amazing. 

 

Dean plucks a stem from the weeds he’s laying down beside and chews on it lazily, the sun beating down on him while he hears Sam splashing around in the lake. He’s warm and comfortable, chest soaking up the heat from the sun.

“Don’t go too far out!” Dean yells at Sam, curling up into a sitting position, keeping his eyes on his brother, arms wrapped loosely around his pulled up legs.

“Get in here!” Sam cries, moving closer to the shore, his growing body glistening with crystal drops of lake water, making him shimmery and Dean uses his hand as a visor from the rays of sunshine to keep his eyes on him. “We came to play in the water, Dean! Come on!”

Dean holds back for a few minutes, he notices a group of girls making their spot not too far from them, whiffs of omega sweetness and alpha heat wafting into the air, strong and slightly overwhelming for how far they are.

Dean watches them, all girls, slim, bikinis so small they hardly cover anything and he feels his stomach tighten, twisted in attraction, cock stirring at the pretty sight ahead of him. Such beautiful bodies, all together, all smooth skin and delicious.

He catches the eye of a pretty blond, sunglasses perched on her head as she smiles at him, flirtingly while she smoothes out her towel over the sand, eyes so sweet and bashful.

Dean nods at her with a pressing grin and pulls the slip of stem from his lips. She shimmies out of her netted beach dress like it's for him, pink and white bikini stark against her tanned skin.

“The water’s great,” Sam’s voice suddenly interrupts Dean’s thoughts, strong and encompassing. 

Dean turns away, looks up and sees the lake water slide down Sam’s body, a tempting pool of drops collected in the dip of his collarbone, pretty pearls of water drops drip down his stomach lines and Dean forgets about the girls, at least for a moment.

“Feel good, Sammy?” Dean reaches for the cooler, pulls out an orange soda for Sam and root beer for himself. “Having fun?”

Sam nods enthusiastically. “Wish you’d come in the water and enjoy-” Sam’s voice drifts as his eyes turning to the group of girls, his shoulders straightening.

They're laughing, music playing past a boom box, summer tunes that just about reach over to them across the lake.

"Oh nice," Sam's words fall to silence, the sunscreen slick bodies of pretty girls in his view.

Dean feel his muscles clench, enveloped in the aroused scent drifting from Sam's skin. "Hey, you're still a kid," Dean gets to his feet, brushing sand from behind his shorts. Sam turns to him, eyes inky dark, aroused, not like he's ever seen, sweet hazel blown out to the rims. Dean frowns, looks back to the girls and sees them eyeing the two of them, feels a slither of annoyance.

"Maybe we should go over?" Sam suggests, drinking from his can of soda, a hazy drizzle of orange sliding down his chin and Dean bends at the waist, fingers touching Sam's skin, catching the sugary stream over his fingertips.

Sam's eyes turn, lock with Dean's, closing around them in a smooth lavender scent. "Wanna race, Sammy?" he asks him and Sam nods, setting his soda can aside, eyes still dark, looking only at him, only at Dean as he stands back up, smile so wide it's stuttering, girls forgotten.

“Yeah, bet I can beat you,” Sam grins up at him, sliding his hand through Dean’s as he gets to his feet.

Dean wraps his arm around Sam’s shoulders making his way back to the water edge. “Sammy boy, you don’t know the world of hurt I’m about to give you,” Dean leans in, lips close to Sam’s ear.

Sam laughs, loud and explosive, almost loud enough to carry across the lake. “Bring it on, Dean.”

 

Dean is sputtering up, gasping for air, the crow of Sam’s triumph in his ears as he rises up and breaks the lake surface.

Goddamn it when did he get so slow? Dean wipes at his eyes, his 12 year old brother grinning like a madman, hair matted down on his head, pretty blue green eyes like bursts of sunshine in the light.

“Warned ya, Dean,” Sam laughs, crystal clear and Dean glares at him.

“I could have died,” he spits out lake water and Sam rolls his eyes.

“Don’t be such a drama queen,” Sam wades over to Dean and offers an arm of support. Dean shoves him away, running his hand through his hair, sure it’s sticking up in every which way, but Sam keeps that sweet, endearing smile on him.

“What you smiling like that for?” Dean asks with a grin, wading in the lake water.

Sam blushes and turns away, catching the loud laughter of the group of girls splashing in the water. Dean turns to them and catches his pretty blond, half hidden under the lake gazing back at him. She's got a perfect smile with perfect teeth.

He stands up tall. “How you feel about making new friends, Sammy?” Dean asks, turning a coy smile at his brother.

Sam looks back and forth between Dean and the group of girls, mouth turning down into a frown.

“No," Sam says sternly and Dean rips his eyes away from the siren call of his blond. "It's just me and you right now," he says and Dean quirks a grin, just at the corner of his lip.

"Not gettin jealous are you, Sammy?" Dean flicks his gaze at the girls, just to prove his point and Sam walks towards him, getting up in his space, so close Dean feels drunk on the slithering smell emitting like sound waves over him, scent so innocent and gentle it makes Dean's skin crawl.

"You wanna go talk to them girls, Dean?" Sam asks softly, hair wet, skin shining like diamonds. Dean breathes through his nose. "That's fine, if that's what you want," Sam offers the smallest of smiles, giving his brother an out of hanging out with him. "They sure are pretty," he sighs and Dean senses the pheromones growing thick again. "Bet they'll really like you," Sam whispers. "Always been so nice to look at," he adds softly, almost too soft for Dean to hear, but he does anyway, always hears what Sam has to say.

Dean smirks. "Come on, let's go say hi, be nice," he suggests and Sam glances over at them, contemplating it. "Saw you looking at the little brunette over there," Dean grins.

He sees Sam flush, cheeks flaring in soft baby pink. "I wasn't-"

"It's ok, Sammy, about time you start looking anyway."

Sam ducks his head and pushes a sigh past his petal pink lips. "Yeah?" his eyes scurry over the surface of the lake. "She's pretty," Sam says softly af Dean's eyes darken.

Feels something clench down in his stomach. It's not that he didn't expect Sam to notice girls, Dean's been watching them since he first found a girlie rag in his father’s glove box but this is Sam, little Sammy who still crawls into his bed when thunder roars too loud, holds his hand when things get too scary in movies.

Dean turns his eyes to Sam, his brother's attention on the pretty brunette. 

"Ok, come on, we'll just say hi. Just for a moment." Dean wraps his arms around Sam's shoulders and guides them back to shore.

 

Her name is Caroline and she's visiting from Albuquerque. Her cousin is getting married and she hates the peach bridesmaid’s dress she's being forced to wear, but she doesn’t have a boyfriend and she’s up for a good time. 

"So what's your story?" Caroline asks, sinking down beside Dean on the beach blanket, her thigh sliding smooth and hot along Dean's, he licks his lips and turns his head towards her, breathing her sweet smell into his lungs.

"No story here," he shrugs pulling his legs up, bent at the knees. "Staying with my uncle while my dad works," he answers and it's mostly true.

Loud, joyous laughter rings out from the lake and Dean finds Sam right smack in the center of a ring of girls, laughing and splashing around him. His eyes soften. Sam looks like he’s having the time of his life, laughing, touching girls, getting hugs, sweet kisses on his cheeks cause he’s the cutest thing within 10 miles of the city.

"So he's your little brother?" Caroline asks softly, her hand reaching out hesitantly to his knee. "He's adorable," she smiles up at Dean like she approves. "The girls love him, those dimples would suck in anyone. Cute as a bug," she adds with a playful wink and Dean's stomach curls around itself as Sam is out there in the water, laughing with enjoyment probably reveling in the attention. So many pretty girls, Omegas and Alphas showering him with affection. His pretty brunette jumps on his back, wrapping her arms around his neck, slender long legs closing in around his waist and Sam grabs her, fingers digging into her hips holding her in place.

Dean breathes deeply. 

It's like he can't watch it anymore and looks back at Caroline who's quiet beside him.

"How old is that little one? The one hanging off Sam?" Dean asks her, and she squints at her.

"Bridgett? Oh, I thinks about 13 maybe 14, she's Kristen's little sister," Caroline hesitates for a second as Dean keeps his eyes on her. "She smells pretty, doesn't she?" Caroline adds quietly, like she doesn't want too, a little unsure. "Like wild flowers and cotton candy. Everyone says so."

It takes a moment for Dean to fully understand what she's really saying, and he chuckles, scooting closer.

"Never much cared for cotton candy," Dean smiles slow, eyes dark as he reaches out and curls his arm around her lake slick waist. 

Caroline laughs happily, sweet and delicate as she leans against him, her head falling to Dean's shoulder.

 

They leave the lake after the girls do, sun falling in the horizon. Dean packs everything into the truck making sure they don't leave anything behind before they head back home. Sam’s got his eyes closed, leaning against the window, yawning, so sleepy.

“You tired?” Dean asks sliding into the driver’s seat and starting the truck. “Had a good time?”

Sam nods with a small, little, pleased smile on his face; his shaggy bangs almost hanging over his eyes. “Got Bridgett’s number,” he opens opens his sparkling eyes and Dean laughs with a strangled bark. “She’s older than me and still gave it up, that’s pretty cool, right? She’s so beautiful, Dean, my god, I swear she smells like candy.”

Dean smirks with a nod and pulls out onto the road.

“Looks like you’re gonna grow up to be a real ladies man, Sammy boy,” Dean reaches out and scrubs a hand through Sam’s hair.

He hums, perfectly exhausted from his fun and games. “How about you? Did you get Caroline-that was her name right?" he looks up worriedly and Dean grins.

"Yeah, that's her name."

Sam gives a quick jerk of his head and breathes in deep. "So, you-you got her number? She was all over you,” he speaks softly and sits up straight, shoulders suddenly tense and his eyes a little smokey. “Saw you you guys on the beach, kissing, getting close. Looked serious,” and his voice falls off after that, looking out the window like he doesn’t want to see Dean’s face.

Dean can still feel the touch of her mouth over his lips, the taste of her tongue, her soft body pressed up so tight around him. “Gonna get together tomorrow night,” Dean drives carefully around the hairpin twists and turns off the mountain roads. “Bet she’ll do anything I ask her,” Dean says. “Sweet girl.”

Sam nods but there’s a frown on his lips. “Looks like she really liked you, did you-” Sam’s voice catches for a moment, like he’s thinking about what he’s gonna say next. “Did you like her?”

Dean turns left onto the road that will take him back to Bobby’s. “What’s not to like, right, Sammy?”

And Sam nods without a word. “She’s really pretty, seems like she’d be your perfect girl,” Sam tries to smile but Dean catches the way he seems almost disappointed and god, the scent he’s giving off is sad and discouraged and almost too much for Dean to handle.

When he can, he reaches out and grabs Sam’s wrist, giving him a tug. “Yeah she’s pretty,” Dean clears his throat, wondering if he’s crossing a line with what he says next. “But none of them are as pretty as you, Sammy,” Dean turns his eyes from the road and looks over at his brother whose face breaks out into the biggest smile he’s ever seen. “Prettiest one out there, dancing around the water, laughing and playing all shy for all those girls.”

“Shut up, Dean,” he murmurs, long pretty eyelashes floating down against those sunkissed cheeks. “I’m not pretty,” he says with a deep sigh and Dean’s heart breaks. “Awkward and too skinny.”

“Sammy, you were the best looking one out there, got it? All the girls were loving on you, making sure you paid attention to them, even Caroline, couldn’t stop talking about you,” Dean tugs him even closer and Sam buckles under his pull, scooting over so close, he’s leaning against him. “Sweet as pie out there,” Dean whispers.

Sam sighs pleased. “Yeah, Dean? Were you looking at me too? Watching over?”

And Dean can feel the enticing swirl of Sam’s pheromones curling around his head, the space in the cab so small he’s feeling almost drunk with Sam’s scent. Dean’s pretty sure Sam isn’t doing it on purpose, probably doesn’t even realize it but god, he smells a little like heaven.

"Gotta watch over my little brother, right? Make sure no one breaks your heart," Dean glances down at his sleepy face. "Gonna break a lot of hearts, Sammy, just you see."

Sam sighs softly, eyes closing. "Thanks, Dean."

 

Sam is asleep by the time they pull up to Bobby’s and Dean cuts the engine. He looks soft and delicate, a whiff of something sweet and precious coming off his skins.

Dean doesn't really want to wake him, he looks too peaceful so Dean works under Sam's head and knees and lifts him up into his arms, pressing him close to his chest as he maneuvers Sam's lanky body out of the truck.

Sam wakes up as soon as Dean leans down and lays Sam onto the bed, chest arching, as he sighs sleepily, face pressing into the pillow, wrapping his arms around it.

"Are we home?" Sam mutters, still sleepy and warm.

Dean brushes his hand down Sam's cheek, his thumb sliding along under his chin, fingertips reaching just above his jawline. "Sleep, Sammy," Dean whispers softly. He wants to lean down and kiss his cheek, but today's proved it for him, Sam's getting too old. He's growing up.

So Dean makes sure he's comfortable and heads out of the room, downstairs to Bobby who's drinking and reading from an old ancient looking book.

"Sam out for the night?" Bobby asks, draining his glass.

Dean nods and takes a seat on the chair at the desk. 

He thinks about Caroline for a moment, all the girls and Sammy. Questions bubble around his worn brain and he sighs.

"Gotta ask you something, Bobby," he says seriously.

"Sure, son, anything you want," Bobby nods, closing the book. He looks alert and ready to help out if he needs too. 

Dean has been thinking about it since the girls at the lake, hadn’t thought to think about it before. “So, I get that alphas are attracted to omegas but are omegas attracted to other omegas?” he asks, he already knows he answers, Caroline is definitely an omega, yet she smelled beautiful against him. 

Bobby scratches at his chin slowly. “Well, it happens, of course, while the ideal relationship is alpha-omega, it’s been known for alphas to be attracted to other alphas, just as some omegas are attracted to other omegas,” he explains and stands up, turning to his book case, fingers casing through the various book spines. It takes a moment but Bobby pulls out a book from the offering and walks over to Dean who’s seated at the couch.

“Well, here’s a book you can start reading, it’s pretty outdated but I’m sure once you get back into school there’ll be a whole lot more information for you,” Bobby hands over the book to Dean.

_Alpha/Omega Sexuality and Rules of Attraction_

Dean opens the book slowly and comes to the Table of Contents. His eyes scan over the various chapters.

 _Alphas: Catch the whiff of your future Omega_  
 _Omegas: Alphas Intoxication_  
 _So you’re Attracted to an Alpha but you’re an Alpha too. What’s the Deal?”_  
 _Don’t be Scared, Omegas like Omegas Too_  
 _Don’t worry, you’re Not Weird, it Happens to Everyone_  
 _Don’t Mind the Stares, They’re just Jealous, Love is Love is Love, No Matter Who You Are_  
 _The Myths of Omega Infertility_

Dean looks up at Bobby and offers a small smile, this seem to be exactly what he needs to answer his questions. “Thanks, Bobby.”

He nods and moves back behind his desk. “You liking an Omega, Dean?” Bobby asks with a grin and Dean feels himself flush red hot, down his neck, it’s not like he can deny it now, why ask the question otherwise.

Dean shifts in his seat and clutches at the book. “There was a group of girls down at the lake,” he starts carefully, swallows the lump in his throat and feels so embarrassed. This is probably something he should be talking about with his father but-but John is gone and who he has is Bobby. Bobby is an excellent replacement. “This girl, I can tell she’s an Omega, smells sweet and delicate, nothing like the other Alphas, and I wanted her, but I don’t know-” Dean breathes in deep, eyes closing at the memory of Caroline’s soft skin, “I don’t know if it’s the pills that are-you know-”

Bobby nods. “I know what you’re getting at but no. The answer is no, Dean.” 

Dean looks up at Bobby, his expression serious and true, if anyone knows what they’re talking about, it would be Bobby. It’s one of the things that Dean is in awe of. He know so much, more than Dean think he could ever know in his lifetime.

Bobby clears his throat. “The pills aren’t changing your biology, son,” he says slowly, so Dean can hear every single word he has to say, allowing it to stick and file it away in case he needs to remember it again later. “You’re not turning into an Alpha. You’re born one or the other, you can’t just switch it up. The pills, they’re just stopping you-” his voice cuts out for a moment, eyes turning to the ceiling as his mind whirls with what to say next, always careful to use the right words, always sure that there is nothing left to be questioned. “They’re just stopping you from being who you are.”

Somehow it seems wrong, the way things are for Omegas, for what he is. Dean is fully aware of the inconveniences. He gives an understanding nod and looks down at the book again. “So, pretty much everyone can want to be with anyone?” he mutters, not really asking Bobby, mostly just talking out loud to himself. 

It seems like a crazy concept. If anyone can want anyone, or be with anyone, how the hell do people function? Does that mean one day he’ll be attracted to Bobby? Dean can’t imagine that happening, not ever. Does it mean his father could possible want him or Sam one day? _That_ thought is horrifying.

And Dean feels his stomach drop straight down to his feet, throat shutting down, making it a little harder to breathe. How is something like that possible? It’s his father, Bobby is like his father, if there is nothing that prevents anyone from blocking pheromones, does it mean that children can be seduced by adults, or adults can try to mate with children? The very idea is mortifying.

Dean’s blood pumps viciously through his veins.

“Bobby,” Dean speaks, strained, his eyes worried. “How do people function then?” he blurts out bluntly, mind going to lengths he doesn’t even want to believe people can go to. “If everyone is giving out their scents, how does anyone control it?” Dean remembers the way all the girls surrounded Sammy at the lake, playing with him, touching him, hands all over him and Dean feels anger simmering under his skin, burning hot just below his flesh. Sammy is his, his little brother, no one should be touching him like that, especially not thirsty girls who weave promising scents that intoxicate him. “It’s not right, Bobby.”

“Hey now, just calm down, Dean,” Bobby stands up and walks to the desk, fingers curling around the liquor bottle as he pours himself a drink. For a moment Dean thinks Bobby is going to serve him a glass but Bobby isn’t Dad, Dad would give him something to shut him up but Bobby is different and it’s something Dean appreciates. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, kid,” Bobby takes a drink, all of it in one gulp and pours himself another three fingers. But Dean doesn’t know how he is getting ahead of himself.

“I guess I just don’t-” Dean sighs, his fingers clutching at the book in his lap, “I don’t understand,” he shrugs. Bobby walks over to him, taking a seat right down beside him, the hand not holding his drink sliding along his shoulders as he pulls him close. Dean melts against the comfort of Bobby. He feels so sturdy and strong, like he’s there to protect Dean, protect Sammy so they function properly in the world. So much more than his father has ever tried to offer.

“The problem is that you’ve been out of school for so long, Dean, you’ve missed so damn much information and I can’t pretend to substitute what _I_ know for what you’ve missed. I only know what I know, what I’ve read and I’m old and out of date,” he winks at Dean but at the same time he’s super serious about it. Bobby speaks carefully. “What you have to understand, is that we smell _everything_ , Alphas can catch the scent of an Omega a mile away, their senses so acute it’s almost annoying,” Bobby offers a solemn grin. “But at the same time we as Omegas can smell every single Alpha _and_ Omega around us,” he explains. “The thing you have to understand is that despite what people put out, their smell, their scent, you know what you want and what you don’t,” Bobby explains, “Dean, you can’t be with someone if you’re not attracted to them. That part doesn’t change. You said there were a bunch of girls, were you getting all bothered over them all?” he asks curiously.

Dean only remembers Caroline’s scent. “No, I mean, I could smell them all, but not like,” he smiles a bit, “Not like her,” he admits.

And Bobby nods in complete understanding. “You may smell every single person in the room, but your instincts are the most important factor. You still have control over who you want and who may want you. Just because someone catches your scent, doesn’t mean you’re destined to be with them. You still have a choice of who your partner is going to be,” Bobby speaks honestly, drinking from his glass. “Hell, I’ve been around every smell you can possibly think of and while I physically react to it, because my body says I should, it don’t mean that’s what I’m meant to have. Haven’t-” Bobby cuts off suddenly, and Dean can see Bobby curling into himself, whatever is working in his mind takes him away from Dean. It only lasts a few minutes and Bobby seems to come back. “Not since my wife did I care about any other scent,” he speaks softly and Dean doesn’t know everything that happened between him and his wife, all he knows is that Bobby is now alone.

It takes a moment for Bobby to speak again, and Dean wants him so badly to speak, just so that it doesn’t feel so weird around him. “Well, you know who you belong too. You will be able to distinguish what you want from whoever else around you. It’s just how it works,” Bobby finished and drinks the rest of what’s left in his glass. “But you-you’ll learn more of that in school,” Bobby scrubs a hand down his neck, scratching at his beard, his eyes dark and distant like he’s thinking of something else. Something he doesn’t want to share with Dean.

Dean yawns and blinks his eyes, giving him an out. “Bobby-”

“You should probably go to sleep,” Bobby gives Dean’s shoulder a squeeze, his smile kind and a little sad. “We can talk more about it later, yeah?”

And Dean nods. “Yeah, I’m tired anyway,” he curls his fingers around the book Bobby gave him. He thinks he’ll read at least a chapter before he goes to sleep, although with all the questions racing through his head, he doesn’t think sleep will come at all. “Night, Bobby.”

Bobby still looks out of it, but he still smiles, even if it’s only for Dean’s benefit. “Night, Son.”

 

Two weeks before school starts and already registered for Washington High School, John shows up at Bobby’s doorstep, beat up and bloody.

Sam rushes in ecstatic surprise at his father but all Dean feels is his world crumbling down over his shoulders. John throws a hand out to stop Sam from colliding into his broken body and Dean can see the faint disappointment in his brother’s eyes before he sets back and smiles. 

“Dad, you’re back. You look terrible,” Sam frowns and John gives his youngest son a wink and grin, like it’s a mere scratch as he ambles in through the doorway, stopping at an Dean unmoving, rooted to the floor in horror.

If John is back, that means several things, most importantly and tragically, Dean knows John means to take them away. 

“What are you doing here?” Dean asks softly, his stomach is clenching, coiling around itself in dread and he feels like he wants to throw up. The timing couldn’t be more perfect, as if John knew good things were going Dean’s way and as usual, John, the knight in dull, disappointing armor is there to ruin the day. 

John’s smile falls from his mouth. “Is that how you greet your father?” he bristles angrily, eyes blazing with aggression. 

Dean looks up at his father, mouth straight in a restrained line, holding his ground. “Good to see you’re alive,” Dean says instead and takes a step back, his senses suddenly overwhelmed by the angry whiff of his father’s displeasure and Sam’s surprise. “You leaving soon?” he adds just because he know it will piss him off.

And John’s shoulders straighten, chest puffed up in aggravation as he takes a step closer to Dean with a curl of his lip. “Listen here, you-”

But Bobby steps in between them and presses a warm hand to Dean’s shoulder, creating more distance between him and his father. “Dean, I asked you to get me that book from my room, remember?” And it breaks the spell, Dean turns to Bobby and nods, Bobby gives him the briefest of smiles and squeezes reassuringly, “Why don’t you take Sam and go look for it?” he asks and Dean levels his eyes to John, locked eye to eye with his father.

The air around them strumming with tension and angry heat. Sam moves into his comfort zone with soft calming scents and Dean looks away, turning to his brother who’s confused and a little scared. “Come on, Sammy,” Dean reaches out and grabs Sam’s hand, tugging him away from the room, “You know how messy Bobby’s room is, help me look for it?”

Sam hesitates for a moment, glancing up at his father who’s still frowning before he nods. “Ok,” he turns his head and looks to Dean who offers the nicest smile he can muster. “Yeah, Dean, I’ll help you, come on.”

Dean throws one last annoyed look at his father before he drags Sam up the stairs. Once inside Dean releases Sam’s hand and collapses onto Bobby’s bed, breathing like he can’t catch his breath, his lungs clenched so tight accepting only sharp stuttered gasps, not open enough to calm him down as he needs them too. 

Sam watches him silently, taking a careful seat beside him, his hand inching across the bed onto Dean’s thigh. He smells so sad and so curious, so worried. Dean knows his brother has no idea what’s happening, why he’s so angry with his father and it’s not his fault. Dean’s frustration with John is not Sam’s business and he kind of hates that Sam is getting caught up in it.

“Why are you so angry to see dad?” he asks him softly and Dean turns to him, eyes dark and angry.

“Not your problem, Sammy,” he says and runs his hands through his hair, giving a hard tug to bring him back to the present, forgetting how his father kept him out of school; kept him dumb as long as it didn’t interfere with his own agenda. How he uproots them from place to place, stashing them away whenever he has a job to do. How he left him in the hospital when he really needed him. How he means to dash any hope Dean has to being a perfectly functional human being. An Omega being.

Omega, and Dean feels the heat behind his eyes, the clench of his throat. He’s a disappointment, Dean can feel it pouring from his father’s pores, despite his words, his father is ashamed of him, he so wanted Dean to be an Alpha, it’s what was supposed to happen, and John hates that another thing in his life has failed. The rush of it is so strong he feels like he’s choking and Sam’s got his arms around Dean, holding him up, pressing him against his body, telling him to breathe. 

“Dean, you’re scaring me,” Sam’s voice is wet and worried, his arms curling so tightly around Dean’s shoulders, his waist, holding him up. “Dean, come on, breathe. Please.”

And Dean shoves his brother aside, gasping for air, working his way through the panic. “Sammy,” he gasps and his brother’s right there, right back in his arms, touching him; growing hands smoothing down his shoulders, his back, along his chest and Dean feels his breath coming in softer, not so tight, not so painful. 

Sam, his brother, his sweet, younger brother who’s been the world to him, taking care of him, the way his father should, the way John never has. 

“I’m right here, Dean. I’m right here, concentrate on my voice,” and it only makes Dean gasp louder, who is this child trying to comfort his older, useless brother? This Omega trying to come off as someone stronger, someone different than the natural order? “Breathe, Dean, just breathe,” Sam presses his body against Dean, arms wound so tight like a starfish, wrapped so comfortingly and stronger than he’d ever ask of a 12 year old. “In and out,” Sam whispers into Dean’s ear and Dean shudders at overwhelming heat of his alpha brother. “In and out, Dean, come on, just breathe. In and out.”

Dean melts and feels his coiled insides unfurl slowly, listening to the soft chorus of Sammy's calming timbre. “Ok,” he gasps, closing his eyes, concentrating on Sam’s steady breathing, his heartbeat. Thump, thump thump, thump. And Dean collapses against him. That’s it, this, this is exactly what he needs.

“Breathe, Dean, in and out. In and out, slowly. Just slow and steady, please,” Sam speaks softly, so strong and stable. After a few minutes and the book Bobby was genuinely talking about, forgotten, Dean sighs, air reaching his lungs, sweet and comforting. “Dean,” Sam says softly after a good couple minutes, “you feel better?”

Dean nods and finally pulls back, giving Sam one last squeeze around the waist. “Thanks, Sammy,” Dean whispers and smiles, running a hand through Sam’s hair, palm sliding down Sam’s wet cheek. “Don’t cry, ok?”

And Sam nods with a sniffle, shuffling away so he’s not overwhelming his brother and Dean is thankful for it. “You scared me,” he admits, “don’t like seeing you like that,” he mutters, eyes drawn down to the floor, mouth puckered and pulled down into a frown.

Dean hates putting his brother through it and shifts just a little closer, hoping Sam doesn’t move away. After a few seconds of silence Dean opens his arms and Sam dives in, pressing in closer, snuggling so tight Dean can’t breathe for a completely different reason. His scent is timid and soft, tender and vulnerable. Just like a kid and Dean hugs him tight.

“I’m sorry, Sammy, sorry I made you worry. I’m ok though,” Dean murmurs and gathers him closer in his arms so Sam is flushed like a second skin, sharing the same breath. “It’s going to be ok,” Dean runs his fingers along Sam’s hair, down his cheeks, along his shoulders, down his back. “Come on, lets go back down.”

And Sam shakes his head. “Something’s wrong,” he whispers against Dean’s neck, breathing shallow and worried. “Want you to feel better, please, please feel better Dean. Can’t take you mad. You’re so mad,” he says and Dean can’t ignore Sam’s insight, his ability to read any situation accurately, even if he is so young.

“Ok, Sammy, just you know-” Dean agrees heavily and grasps at Sammy. “You make me feel better, Sammy,” he admits and Sam sniffles again as Dean’s fingers card through his thick hair. “So calming, sweet-”

Sam shifts in Dean’s arms, scent strong and steady, “I just want you to feel better,” he whispers in a rush. “Don’t like it when you’re so upset, makes me-” he pauses for a moment and Dean can smell the shift in Sammy’s scent, like a race horse running straight at him. “It makes worry, Dean,” Sam sighs

Dean feels his chest tighten, curled into itself and hurting at the broken sound of his brother’s voice, that sweet, soft serenade. “Don’t worry about me, Sam,” Dean whispers, “But thank you, Sammy. Always trying to make me feel better, thank you.”

Sam sighs and rests his cheek against Dean’s shoulder. “Did-did dad do something?” Sam breathes, “did he do something wrong?” he asks softly, hands curling around the flimsy t-shirt over Dean’s back.

Dean, for a moment, consider spilling everything to Sam, the abandonment at the hospital, keeping him away from school, refusing to let them lead a normal life, but it occurs to Dean that it’s not Sam’s problem. He still loves John, an abandoning father, there hasn’t been a reason not to, at least not for him so Dean submits to the belief that John could be a better father to Sammy.

“I’m fine, Sam,” Dean pulls away and brushes his hands down Sam’s back. “Really, come on, we should go back downstairs, who knows how long Dad will stay, right?”

And Sam nods. “Do you think he’s going to take us with him this time?” Sam asks and Dean hates the question, he knows the answer will be yes if John wants to take them back, take them away from Bobby, take them away from a reasonably normal life. “Dean, I like it here, with Bobby,” Sam whispers softly, almost too quiet to hear but Dean catches it.

“You don’t want to leave?” he asks carefully and Sam pulls away from him, eyes so dark and caring Dean’s breath catches. “Sam-”

“I love it here, Dean,” Sam admits, just a whisper, arms curling so tight around Dean’s neck, breath hot against Dean’s neck. “Like a real home.”

It breaks Dean’s heart. He’s been wanting a normal life, a stable home since he could remember, but he know what his life is destined for. As long as John is around he’ll take them away, teach how to hunt, be the best there are; live the life of the uncertainty that come with the job; he’s never sure he’ll get that call from John, letting them know he hasn’t been killed. 

Dean smooths his hands down Sam’s back. “Yeah, me too. Come on, Sammy, let’s go back down,” when Sam gives a slight, although hesitant nod Dean gives his shoulder a squeeze. “I’m fine, it’ll be fine, kiddo,” he winks and Sam finally gives him a tiny smile.

They make their way down stairs, his father and Bobby are in the kitchen, Bobby at the stove stirring the stew he was making them for dinner.

John notices them first and his eyes have eased in their displeasure of the their earlier meeting; not so hard, not so angry when Dean looks into them. “You find that book?” he asks just to make conversation and Dean looks at Sam for a moment before shaking his head.

“You know it’s a mess up there. Can’t find anything in that pig stye,” Dean jokes and Bobby snorts with amusement from his cooking. Sam pulls his chair close to Dean and sits down, eyeing his father curiously, he’s still all bloody and banged up. 

“Want some help, Dad?” he asks softly and John turns to his youngest son questionably. Sam points to his face, “you’re bleeding, I can clean it up for you,” he offers and John smiles.

“Sure thing, kid,” John nods and pushes the gauze and antiseptic towards Sam. “Do your best,” he grins and Sam laughs, pushing out and away so he can help his father.

“Ya’ll hungry?” Bobby calls out, spoon sloshing around the stew. “Can’t promise it tastes good, but it’s food, and that’s all that matters.”

Dean thinks this is the closest he’ll ever have to a family dinner.

 

“Come on, Dean, you can do better than that. Didn’t I teach you anything, kid?" John presses his arm down on Dean’s windpipe. Dean struggles and gasps loudly, losing air to his lungs. “You think a monster is going to care that you can’t breathe?” John asks, releasing his arm and throws Dean away.

Dean gasps for air, just a for a moment before he launches at John, knife held tight in his grip as it aims for John’s ribs who twists and grasps his wrist, twisting his arm behind his back, pinning him down. “Fuck.”

“This is embarrassing, you forget everything I taught you?” John whispers harshly into his ear before he tosses him back again. “When I left you here I expected you to keep training,” John breathes heavily, eyes a little wild and ready for a hunt.

Dean tries to catch his breath, gripping his wrist. “It’s not all about fighting-”

John rushes him and wraps his arms around Dean’s center to knock him down but Dean catches him in time, twisting away, arms hooking around John’s armpit, knife catching at his father’s adams apple. John laughs darkly, breathing heavily; he leans into the blade and Dean struggles to hold his grip. “Turning soft,” John mutters and throws his hands back, steeling against Dean’s shoulders and easily flipping him over his body, Dean crashing to the floor in a loud grunt.

The knife flies from Dean’s grasp, he scrambles to reach for it but John steps on his outstretched wrist and dives down with a rush, his own knife stopping just above Dean’s chest.

Dean feels his heart jump into his throat, racing like it’s about to give out in fear. It’s not like his father would really hurt him, they are, afterall, just sparing but the look in his father’s eyes and the tip of his knife just a breath above his heart has Dean sweating.

“This is really upsetting, Dean,” John growls in annoyance as he rises, knife pulling up and away, far from Dean’s chest. He reaches a hand out to help Dean but it’s ignored as Dean brushes the hand away and gets to his feet on his own, not before grabbing his knife again. John glares. “What the fuck have you been doing this whole fucking time? Cause this is bullshit.”

Dean brushes the leaves from his jeans, his hair, looking over his shoulder back at the house. He can see Sam and Bobby playing some board game from the opened window. He would much rather be doing that then entertaining his father.

John clamps his large, calloused hand around Dean’s neck and pulls him in close, breath sour and hot against his ear. “You think just because I’m not here, you can fuck around and forget everything I taught you?” he squeezes Dean’s throat painfully, just for a second before he shoves him aside. Dean breathes, pulling long deep breaths into his lungs. “I think,” John glances over Dean’s shoulder into the house and slides back to Dean, drawn tight and heated. “Yeah, I think it’s time I take you boys back on the road with me,” and Dean’s heart stutters in his chest.

No. He knew it was a possibility but no.

John nods and gets into a fighting stance. “You’ve gone soft, Dean, spent all that time teaching you-”

Dean curls his fingers around his knife. “Dad, come on, no,” and John’s eyes flash as he rushes Dean, blade outstretched. Dean swerves away and grips his father’s arm, twisting it behind his back, bringing the hand with his knife up to his father’s throat. “School starts in a couple weeks,” Dean hisses and John laughs, laughs at him as he strikes an elbow blow to Dean’s side, setting him free as Dean crumbles to his knees, the wind knocked out of him.

John reaches down and grabs a handful of Dean’s hair, thrusting his head back, “You think I give a fuck about when school starts? You think I left you here so you could go back to school?” John moves to punch him in the face but Dean swipes his leg out and sweeps his father’s feet, knocking him down and twisting out of his grasp. Dean scrambles and straddles his father’s chest, holding him down, arm across his throat, knife poised just over his right eye. John struggles, squirms under Dean but he’s strong and tightens his thighs against the sides of his father’s chest, holding him down.

He’s breathing heavily, so wound up he thinks for a second he could actually cause harm to his father. “You left me at the hospital, you son of a bitch,” Dean seethes through clenched teeth, digging his arm deeper against John’s throat who gasps out. “I was scared out of my fucking mind-”

John’s eyes blow out wide. “Dean-”

“You think I’m about to let you take me and Sam away from here, away from Bobby?” Dean sneers, “The only place we could call home-”

John struggles against Dean’s hold. “This isn’t your home, Dean,” John tells him, as if it’s a reminder, like Dean doesn’t know it himself. “Bobby is _not_ your father,” he rushes the words past his lips. “ _I_ am, and if I tell you, you both are coming with me, you better the fuck listen, understand or I will-”

Dean feels his chest tighten, vision blurring and it’s that moment, that tiny break of character that John bucks up and throws Dean off, pinning him to the dirt, arms above his head, wrists locked in both hands and eyes so dark and dangerous Dean has never seen them like that before. It’s terrifying. “We leave in a few days, you understand me?”

Dean doesn’t even try to struggle and nods. “But school-” he breathes out softly and can’t finish the rest of his thought, the reality of it hurts too much. This was his chance to change his life, give him some hope and his father, like the man he is, is taking that away from him, again. “You gonna get off me?” Dean asks resigned, body falling limp against the ground.

John climbs off Dean and gets to his feet, this time he grabs Dean by the shirt and hauls him to his feet. “I’ve already told Bobby. Pack up, get ready to go by the time we need to,” John instructs and Dean nods. He clamps a hand down on Dean’s shoulder. “Son, this is to help-”

Dean rolls his shoulder and John’s hand off. “Yeah, I know,” he slides the blade into its sheath at his waist. “You going to tell Sam?” he asks and for the first time John’s facade breaks as he turns back to the window, the both of them look and see Sam laughing with Bobby, still at it with their board game.

John clears his throat. “Think it’ll be better if you tell him,” John says and turns to make his way to the junkyard. “Dean, it’s for the best-”

“Yeah, Dad,” Dean cuts him off, eyes blank, still gazing at Sam and Bobby. “Yeah, I know.”

For the first time he looks sorry, if John is capable of being sorry. “Maybe you can enroll-”

Dean turns and starts heading toward the house. “Whatever,” he mutters and doesn’t bother to watch his father leave. The only thing Dean can feel his his heart breaking, his chest clenching, his eyes watering, his hopes draining away.


	5. Chapter 5

Dean counts the pills in his palm, enough for four days and it makes his stomach churn. John has been gone for two weeks without a word and Dean’s been calling his father almost every day for the last week. 

Somehow, Dean does not find being ignored surprising.

“Fuck,” Dean separates two pills aside and slides the rest into the pill bottle, tucking the container into a fake deodorant spray can. Dean pulls his phone from his pocket and calls his father again.

It rings two times before his John’s voice answers, gritty and tired. “What’s going on, Dean?” he asks him past a loud rush of breath.

Dean’s heart stutters in his chest. He didn’t expect him to answer. “I’m almost out of pills,” Dean blurts out before even saying hello, before asking if he’s ok, but really, that’s not what he’s calling for. “How can I get some more?” he asks, filling a glass full of sink water to take the pills down. “I’ve got some money-”

John sighs over the speaker. “Goddamnit, Dean, you are almost 19 years old, why the fuck are you still bothering me with this?” John asks. “If you need more pills, I’d expect that you’d know where to find more. You’re not an idiot, do some fucking research and find someone,” John bites out with such fierce annoyance Dean’s glad he’s sitting down. “You think I have time for this?”

Dean feels like he’s ten years old again, pissing his father off over something stupid like spilled beer. “I. I was just-”

“Figure it out, Dean,” John barks. “How’s Sam?” he changes his tone, almost fatherly, when talking about Sammy, it’s hard for Dean not to resent the clear favoritism, doesn’t really know when it happened, there was a time when John liked them both, cared for both of his sons but then Dean proved to be different. Maybe that’s when things changed. “You taking care of him?”

Dean breathes deeply; Sam’s been changing, right smack in the middle of being a teenager. He’s more emotional, snappy, prone to ignoring Dean’s direction. It’s not that Dean feels like he’s inferior, he just knows what it’s like to be a teenager, seeing as he still is one, but Sam is different, Sam is deeper. Dean knows John would hate it if he knew what Sam was up too. If he knew who Sam’s friends are.

“He’s good,” Dean answers, and it’s not really a lie, Sam is healthy, or as healthy as their situation allows and well fed. He goes to school, makes the grades but he’s-Dean sighs, Sam is definitely more defiant than Dean ever was.

“Let me talk to him,” John demands and Dean freezes, Sam hasn’t come back from school yet, he texted Dean to let him know he’s with friends and won’t be home until later and that’s normal. After gaining a group of friends, Sam’s been coming home later, been spending time with these friends, being normal, something neither of them had the opportunity to do before. Sam’s proved to be far more social than Dean ever has and Dean’s happy about it. What is a life without enjoyment?

“He’s not here right now, he’s at the library working on a history project,” Dean lies to his father and hopes it works out.

John hums on the other end and clears his throat. There’s no reason to believe Dean’s lying and Dean knows it. “You tell him to call me when he gets back. I want to talk to him, understand, Dean?” his father commands and Dean’s mouth pulls down in annoyance.

“Yeah, I’ll tell him,” he answers swiftly. “Look, I’ve got to go, if I’m gonna find some more pills, can’t waste my time,” Dean finds himself speaking and almost wishes he didn’t feel so petty, so below his father and Sammy, so Omega.

“Take care of yourselves, understand? Don’t know when I’ll be back, you watch out for your little brother, you hear me, Dean?”

And Dean rolls his eyes, of course, he wouldn’t think to _not_ watch out for Sammy. Sam has always been his responsibility. “Yeah, I’ll have Sam call you as soon as he gets back. You be careful, Dad,” and Dean finds himself meaning it. 

John is silent for a moment, his heavy breathing the only thing Dean can hear over the phone. “Just because I’m not there doesn’t mean you should be slacking, Dean. Better keep practicing, showing your brother,” John heaves, “I’m going to test you when I get back, understand?” John warns and Dean wonders if John ever really cared about him.

“Yeah, I got it. Talk to you later,” Dean mutters and hangs up before his father can clear the call. He tosses the phone on the bathroom counter and takes his pills, drinking down all the water. The burn doesn’t hurt as much, now that’s he’s been taking the pills for so many years. It’s just a fingerling of pressure against his chest, the faint burn of a memory and Dean drains the rest of the water in the sink before he washes his hands and heads out of the bathroom.

Dean looks at his watch, almost going to be six. Sam said he’d be back before six thirty and Dean find his fingers typing out a quick, _“be back before sundown, kid,”_ before he heads for the couch and picks up the latest book Bobby’s sent him.

_The Pill: Does it work?_

He’ll start dinner in a fifteen minutes, something easy, maybe sandwiches and hopes Sam will tell him if he’s already eaten before he wastes food, although, the bigger Sam gets the bigger his appetite gets.

Dean feels his pocket vibrate just as he opens his book, it’s a text from Sam.

_On my way home, fucking starving, didn’t have lunch today._

And Dean frowns, he better not find out his brother is getting his lunch money taken from him by a bully, Sam knows better. Sam has the knowledge of taking down a man twice his size in his arsenal of defense. And Dean finds the corner of his mouth turning up in slight pride as he reminds himself that he’s the one who taught his brother.

 _Get your little ass home soon before I eat all the food._ And Dean grins as he tosses the phone on the coffee table and starts his reading. He’ll finish the chapter he’s reading before he starts on dinner.

 

Sam walks through the door just as Dean finishes the last of the bread and turkey, he’ll have to pick some more up the next time he’s out.

“Fuck if I’m tired,” Sam slams the door shut behind him and throws his backpack on the worn couch. Dean smirks and watches his brother slink his way to the card table before he melts down into the chair, head lolling over the tabletop as heavy breaths peel from his lips.

“Hard day, Sammy?” Dean sets the plate of food right in front of his brothers face. He walks back to grab the bag of chips and drink from the counter to finish off their dinner spread.

Sam’s eyes flutter open for a moment, he looks right at Dean. “Dude, I fuckin hate school,” he mutters, pulling himself up to a proper sitting position, eyes on the sandwiches. He grabs for one and literally devours it in two bites, hands already grabbing for a few more. “Oh god, this tastes amazing,” Sam speaks through a mouthful of food. “Thanks, Dean,” he grins with puffy pretty lips.

Dean winks and grabs a half before Sam can finish them off altogether, “Something I can help with?” Dean asks and Sam finishes off his fourth sandwich. “Slow down, you’re going to get sick,” Dean warns.

Sam shakes his head and sighs heavily, frowning like he’s got the weight of the world on his shoulders. “My teacher wants me to do an essay on Alpha Omega relationships. I just don’t know an Omega I want to do it with-” Sam speaks honestly. “I mean I smell them but I’m not-” Sam grabs for another half sandwich. “I don’t really hang out with them, most of my friends are Alpha-”

Dean feels his blood bubble, he knows Sam isn’t an asshole and wouldn’t purposefully ignore Omegas but at the same time it sounds like it and that doesn’t settle well with Dean at all.

“You telling me there is no Omega out there that you can do this essay with?” Dean asks seriously and Sam rolls his eyes, finishing the rest of his sandwich. “Sam-”

And Sam sighs, fingers digging into the bag of Doritos Dean placed on the table. “Look, I know what you’re getting at and yeah, I know some Omegas but it’s not the same, I’m not friends with them and not because-”

Dean chews on his bottom lip, trying to restrain the annoyance he feels on this particular situation. “You better not be ignoring them because they aren’t Alphas,” Dean warns and Sam swallows his food, looking guilty. “Listen to me,” Dean stands up from his seat and walks over to Sam, tipping his chin to look at at him, “You better not grow into one of those fucking conservative assholes that thinks Alphas are better than everybody else. You understand me?”

And Sam nods, prying his chin free, looking away from Dean and Dean moves back to his seat. “It’s just in school they say that Alphas, that we’re-I mean… You know-” Sam stops for a moment, hesitates and Dean knows where this conversation is going, wishing he had the chance to ignore it. “I mean maybe you don’t know cause you didn’t go to school but-”

And that’s all Dean needs to hear, his insecurities rushing against his chest in a quick solid punch. Dean stills, his shoulders tensing, his heart racing and Dean turns from his brother. Can’t even look at him.

It’s really only a moment, a second that Sam realizes what he says, what he means and Dean breathes in through his nose and out through his mouth as he stands up and walks back to the sink.

“Dean-” Sam whispers, breaking the terrible tension in the room, the thick cloud of shame rolling like waves right in Dean’s direction. 

He clenches his fingers, his chest closing up, his breath caught in his throat, “No, Sam,” he wheezes softly, almost too quiet to be heard, “You’re right, maybe I… maybe I don’t know what you mean,” he says matter of factly and makes his way to the couch, grabbing his book, still has enough to read to last him the night, to make him forget what Sam said to him, what Dean feared Sam would begin to think about him, now that he’s growing up and understanding the differences between him and other friends.

Dean can hear the scrape of Sam’s chair on the floor, scooting back. “Dean-”

Dean curls his fingers around his book, nails digging back into the worn cover, still won’t look at him, tension so tight in his shoulders, they’re starting to ache. “You should call around, maybe ask a friend about finding an Omega to help you,” Dean chews on his bottom lip, looking down at the tiny print of his book, they all blur together, vision fogging, words running into each other. “And call Dad, he wants to hear your voice, wants to make sure you haven’t died on my watch,” he adds as an after thought, the last thing he needs tonight is to get a frantic call from their father asking of Sam’s hurt or worse if he doesn’t get that call back. Dean blinks his eyes, clears his sight. He can read the words again and concentrates on that instead.

Sam sighs and Dean ignores that faint scent of disappointment and apology. Even if Sam’s face says otherwise, trying to be strong and grown up but Sam’s never been able to hide his feelings; Dean can always tell just what Sam is thinking, feeling by the scent that peels from his skin like petals on a flower. Dean can almost drown himself in the dark, sorrow that Sam’s emitting like a spark of flame. 

Dean hears Sam amble around the small room, setting the plate in the sink, washing his hands before he makes his way into the living room, contemplating whether or not to sit on the couch next to Dean before he chooses the empty seat across from him.

“Dean, come on I-”

That’s it, Dean tosses the book aside and stands up, grabbing his jacket. Sam swerves to face him. “I’m going out,” Dean barks and shoves the door open. When Sam looks ready to follow him he sets his jaw and shakes his head.

Sam sits back down. “Can I-”

“No, you’ve got homework to do,” Dean slides himself into his jacket and turns up the collar, Sam looks devastated, hurt and sad and so fucking sorry. Dean needs get out of there. “Call Dad before you go to sleep,” Dean turns from him, “don’t wait up,” he mutters just as the door closes behind him.

He gets a few feet away when he hears the door open, doesn’t turn around. “Get your ass back into the fucking house, Sam. _Do not_ follow me,” he breathes, trying to get the scent of his brother out of his system, “If you follow me, I’ll kick your ass,” he threatens and waits until he hears the door close again and Sam’s gone, just the scent of the outdoors. Just him and the world, alone.

Dean stands for a few moments before he heads for the beat up old pick up truck John picked up for him just before he left them. Dean tries to use it for emergencies only when he can help it. 

Tonight is an emergency.

Dean’s phone starts ringing, it’s Sam. He isn’t even out of the driveway. Dean silences the phone and stows it away in his glove compartment. He won’t keep it there the entire time he’s gone, just right now; right now he knows what Sam wants and he hasn’t the energy to deal with it.

He allows himself a glance in the direction of the fixer-upper house they’re borrowing and sees Sam in the window, watching him.

His chest tightens with distress and he turns away, starting the car up and driving off.

Dean doesn’t know where he’s going or what he’s going to do, he just needs to leave. Forget how utterly useless those words Sam, his Sam, made him feel.

 

The only thing Dean wants to do is sleep when he stumbles into the dark house, throwing his keys aside, shoving his jacket off; kicking his shoes away as he trips into his room. He flips the light switch, his bedside lamp illuminating a soft glow around his bed.

And it hits him, the heartbreaking, pitiful pain of apologetic sadness. Dean doesn’t even need to look to know he’s right there. In his room but his eyes do gravitate to the bed, Sammy, curled into himself, wearing his favorite Led Zeppelin shirt and a pair of worn boxers. 

Dean feels his heart crunch under his ribs, stomach flopping sickly, the liquor rising up in his chest painfully. Sam looks so little on Dean’s bed, shivering above the covers like he’s punishing himself. He looks so pathetic and it hurts, but Dean remembers what Sam said, has those words burned into his skull and fuck did it hurt. He spent the last several hours drinking, drowning himself in liquor to try and forget it but it’s still there, that painful burning of disappointment, of insecurity right there in the middle of his chest, churning slowly like a lazy wheel, crunching at his insides with every single breath that he takes.

But Sammy is there, so vulnerable in sleep, hiccuping like he was crying and fuck if he probably was and that kills him.

Dean sighs heavily, moving to the bed, reaching out for Sam’s arm. “Sammy,” he whispers, his fingers touching smooth, soft, skin and Sam shifts but doesn’t wake up.

He contemplates going to Sam’s room, sleeping there, just to put the distance between them that he needs; it’s a good idea until a soft overwhelming warmth fills the room. Dean knows it comes from his brother, so open as he slumbers and Dean knows he can’t. He won’t, he won’t leave Sam like this, all alone, so sad. Dean closes his eyes and lays back on the bed, hand still on Sam’s arm. “Sammy,” he speaks softly again and this time Sam stirs, body shivering under his palm and Dean looks over at his little brother. 

His heart breaks at the sight. Sam’s cheeks streaked with dried tears, his pretty, petal mouth curled down in a frown. “Sammy,” he whispers again and Dean watches Sam’s eye lashes flutter at the sound of his voice.

“Dean,” Sam sighs, so sleepy and sadly.

Dean runs his hands up Sam’s arm and it stirs him, makes him wake up, eyes fluttered open and wide with sorrow.

“Dean,” he whispers, voice wet with sadness and Dean’s hand tightens around his little arm. Dean holds his breath, doesn’t want to say anything as Sam’s eyes rush with wetness and emotion. “Dean,” his voice breaks as he scoots over slightly. “I’m sorry,” he breaks and Dean wants to stay mad, god, he wants to punish his little brother but fuck if it’s hard when he’s breaking down. “I’m so sorry, Dean, I didn’t mean it.” And Sam is moving across the bed, slithering himself around Dean, arms curling around his neck as he pulls himself so close Dean can almost taste the sadness.

“Sammy,” Dean whispers and he’s rewarded with a wet hiccup that breaks his heart, crumbles the unsteady wall he’s tried to build up. “Don’t cry, please,” he whispers, arms closing around his brother, pulling him close, holding him tight against his chest so he can feel Sam’s erratic heartbeat. “Please don’t,” he smooths a hand down Sam’s back, before he brushes up to his neck, pressing him close, feeling every inch of his chest so tight against Dean.

“I’m sorry,” Sam buries in deeper, skin almost Dean’s, pressing so close there’s no telling who is who. “You’re the smartest person I know, I didn’t mean-Dean I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry. Please don’t hate me,” Sam cries, lips wet with tears as he whispers them into Dean’s neck, moving, flayed open in love against his skin. “Don’t hate me, please,” Sam hiccups so pitifully, “Please don’t hate me, Dean. Please don’t.”

But Dean would never hate Sam, whatever he said, he would never. Sam is his everything, Sam is the only thing the only in the world that is more important than his own life. Dad told him, years ago that he was in charge of Sam, it was his job to take care of him.

Sam is his everything and that means no matter how hateful, how hurtful Sam can be, Dean’s going to love him; he’s going to protect him, he’s going to do everything in the world to make Sam feel safe, make him feel happy, make him feel loved, make him feel like the most important person in the world.

“Sammy,” Dean pulls his face away, looking at the tears, bringing his other hand to wipe them away. Sam sniffles, pushing his wet face into Dean’s palm for comfort. “You’re wearing my favorite shirt, Sammy,” Dean murmurs and Sam’s arm tighten around Dean’s neck, pressing closer.

“It’s you,” Sam slinks down into Dean’s body, leg curling up and around Dean’s hip. “Smells like you, I needed-” he hiccups, voice so wet and sad Dean wants to soak it up and wash it away, “You, Dean. It’s you, I’m sorry,” he presses in close and Dean sighs, running his hand down Sam’s back, fingers flashing over the curve of his small ass, sliding down to the super soft flesh behind Sam’s thighs and pulling him closer. Dean moves his hand away as soon as Sam’s body is completely flush against him. So he can feel every inch of him, so he knows Sammy is safe, right there, right where he can make sure. “Sorry-” he keeps murmuring, soft and sweet and Dean’s heart speed, rabbit fast against his chest.

“It’s ok, Sammy,” Dean whispers, grasping at the blankets, pulling what’s available around them, air so cool against their bodies. “It’s ok.”

And Sam sighs, so helpless and sweet it tickles every nerve in Dean’s body.

“Sleep, Sammy,” Dean holds his brother tight against him, flopping the blanket so it covers all of Sam, even if he doesn’t get enough; Sam needs it all, deserves it all. His Sammy who’s wearing his favorite shirt, who slept in his bed, who’s so sorry it makes Dean ache. 

“I’m sorry,” Sam whispers again, past a sigh once more, head lolling against Dean’s shoulder, mouth working aimlessly against Dean’s neck as sleep overtakes him. “You’re the best big brother ever,” Sam’s arm cross around Dean’s neck like a rope, tightening so Dean’s breath comes out harsh and quick, "so smart, please," he breathes carefully, tiredly, so soft Dean feels him loosen in his hold, going limp in sleep. “Smart, Dean-”

Dean doesn’t say anything, just holds his brother, holding him close, forgives him because that’s all he knows how to do. His job, everything he’s known since he can remember, it’s always been about Sam,taking care of Sam, and it hurts. Ever since Sam started school, started learning, started asking question, Dean knew he couldn’t give him all the answers, not like he should, not like a big brother would but he tries his best. He can’t help it, he wants to be everything for Sam, wants to provide for him the way no one was there to provide for him when he was Sam’s age. 

Dean reaches over and switches the lamp light off, making sure not to wake up Sam who’s asleep now, breathing in and out, in and out so soft, his breath so warm against Dean’s neck.

 

When Dean wakes up Sam is gone and he sighs rolling over to the warmth of Sam’s spot on the bed. He breathes in deep and can still smell the lingering scent of him. Calm, gentle, serene just the way he normally smells, and Dean digs in, lavishing himself in the scent of his brother.

“Dean!”

Dean’s head pops up and it only takes a moment for him to catch the whiff of delicious food in the air, smiling to himself as he pulls up on his knees and hands just as Sam appears in the doorway. He’s dressed in worn sweat pants, still wearing Dean’s favorite shirt.

It’s Saturday, no school and Dean rolls over, sitting up in bed as Sam takes a few cautious steps into the room, his slant eyes timid for a moment, his mouth careful and soft. “I made breakfast,” Sam speaks carefully, eyes down at the floor still immersed with a guilt that tugs at Dean’s heart. “I mean if you want some?”

Dean can smell bacon and sausage and eggs and his stomach groans loud enough to bounce off the walls. “Sure thing, Sammy,” Dean offers a smile at his brother and crawls over to the end of the bed, feet clashing with the floor in a silent compact. “Still wearing my shirt, better not ruin it with grease,” he grins and Sam ducks his head, flushing down with an overwhelming scent of embarrassment and Dean grins. “I’ll be right out.”

Sam nods and disappears back into the kitchen, leaving Dean alone in the room. 

It hasn’t left him. Still remembers what happened the previous night but Sam is trying to make amends and who is he to try and ignore it? 

Dean walks out to the small card table, naked feet on the cold hardwood floor as he pulls out a beaten chair and takes a seat while Sam is scooping up breakfast onto a plate. “Smells great, Sam.”

Sam glances over his shoulder, sharing a quick shy smile and piles as much food as possible on the plate before he heads over to Dean and sets the plate down. “Took some money to get bacon and sausage, didn’t have any left in the fridge,” he comments as he hands Dean a plastic fork and a fast food napkin from their overcompensating collection. “Got some milk and orange juice too,” he says carefully.

Dean nods and takes a long, deep breath of deliciousness. “How did you get to the store, Sam?” he asks, picking up the fork. The nearest store is a good three miles away from them and Dean is pretty certain Sam didn’t walk this early in the morning.

“Took the truck,” Sam answers easily and when Dean tosses him a cautionary glance Sam shrugs with a blush and pulls the keys from his pocket. “You were sleeping, didn’t want to wake you,” he explains and Dean shovels a load of eggs into his mouth. “Didn’t think you’d mind as long as I got food.” 

Dean nods, he taught Sam to drive years ago and with as tall as he's getting no one would really question he's old enough. 

"Don't do it again without telling me, ok?" Dean bites into a perfectly cooked sausage. 

"Ok," Sam nods and walks back to get his own plate. “How is it?” he asks over his shoulder and Dean looks over at him, shoulders tight, still tense and unsure of everything. He can feel the apology, still so strong, hesitant, worried that Dean is still upset with him. Dean can read his brother like a book, so clear, so sure and he sighs as he sets his fork down, wiping his mouth with his napkin.

“It’s great,” Dean assures and scoots his seat out, turning it towards Sam. “Hey, Sammy,” he calls out and Sam turns, plate in his hand, piled with the rest of breakfast, Dean is almost certain Sam will be hungry again in a couple hours. “C'mere,” he mutters and Sam walks over carefully, setting his plate on the table and walks over to Dean standing in front of him.

“Yeah?” he asks and Dean can hear the worry closing around his throat. Dean hates that Sam is so scared. He knows that last night left him scarred and it eats at Dean. It’s not supposed to be like this. Dean pulls out a chair and Sam sinks into his seat and bites down on his lower lip, chewing nervously.

Dean wants to put his hand to his jaw, make him stop, it’s not worth the pain. It’s not even that serious, at least, that’s what Dean needs to believe but he can’t help but feel insecure about his place in Sam’s life. “Last night-”

And just those words send Sam rushing from his chair, kneeling in front of Dean, hands placed reverently on Dean’s knees. “I told you. Fuck, Dean, I’m sorry.”

Dean smiles, hopes it looks comforting as his hands fall on Sam’s hands. “Stop apologizing,” he tells him because he doesn’t want to keep hearing it. He knows. Last night, in bed, Sam was so apologetic, words so raw and so true that Dean knows Sam is Sorry. He doesn’t need to hear it anymore. “I know,” Dean tells him and Sam’s fingers spread against Dean’s thighs, curling around, holding him tight and Dean sighs. “I need to know-”

“What?” Sam looks up at him, still on his knees, like he’s offering himself like a sacrifice. “What do you need? Dean, tell me.”

Dean’s hands curl around his brothers and guide him up, back onto the chair and Sam is so sad and worried and Dean smiles wryly. He’s been trying to hold this conversation off. Didn’t think he would have to do it but after last night, it has to be done. “What do you tell your friends about me?” Dean asks carefully. 

Sam looks a little shocked, the worry morphing into something less sad, natural across his brother’s eyes, his lips smoothing out. “That you’re awesome,” Sam answers almost immediately, like he doesn’t have to think about it, so honestly and Dean doesn’t even have to question it. “Dean, you’re my big brother.”

Dean nods, holding himself together with the fact that Sam still looks at him like he’s a hero even if he doesn’t really think he deserves it. “Sammy, I’m not like-”

But Sam interjects before Dean can say more. “No, last night, I was wrong,” Sam says softly, so sad and sorry again, Dean can’t help but feel blanketed in his apology. “I was annoyed about something my friends said,” he admits and Dean looks into his brother’s sunburst eyes, like a galaxy erupting into space. He never knew eyes could be so captivating until he looked into them… his brother’s eyes. 

Dean breathes. “What did your friends say? Was it about me?” 

Sam looks guilty and averts his eye. “Kinda, not, not really. Maybe,” he chews on his lip thoughtfully. “Said you’re the reason I don’t have Omega friends. Kept telling me that you’re too protective, don’t let me do things with other people,” he admits and Dean sits up in his seat, back straight and curious. “They say I talk too much about you,” Sam admits carefully and Dean sighs. “But I do, kinda. Talk about you all the time. Can’t stop,” he admits almost shyly and Dean’s heart explodes.

“Sammy, that’s not why-”

“I know Dad pulled you out,” Sam says, ignoring Dean, “he wanted you to look after me and I understand that now,” Sam leans over and his fingers touch Dean’s thigh, “I know he kept you away but you started learning, Dean, remember how I helped-”

And Dean nods because Sammy was always there for him. Dad doesn’t want Sam to be like him, he wants him to be better, intelligent, different from him and Dean tries hard not to resent his Father for it. He knows it’s because Sam is what John wanted him to be. He’s an Alpha, he’s what Dean isn’t. “You sure did, Sammy,” he reassures.

“And even if you didn’t go to school, you got your GED, Dean. You proved that you’re smart and I shouldn’t have said what I did. I shouldn’t have made you feel like you’re not smart and, fuck, Dean, I’m-”

“Sam, stop. No more apologizing, I’m serious,” Dean grabs his brother’s hand. “I understand, I just don’t want-” Dean sighs, squeezing around his brother’s fingers with a wary smile, “I just don’t want you thinking I’m a fuck up,” he looks down at their hands for a moment, his thumb swiping along Sam’s super soft skin. “Don’t want you to be embarrassed because I’m not the same. I’m not as smart. I’m not-”

Sam jumps at him again, knees down, eyes looking up at him so gentle and sincere. “Shut up, Dean, shut up,” his fingers curl around Dean’s thighs, clawing into his rumpled sleep pants, his breathing sharp and a little unsteady. “Dean, I’ll never, _never_ think that, you understand me?” Sam breathes. “Tell me you understand that,” Sam scrambles up and climbs onto Dean’s lap, like the same little Sammy he used to be. He hasn’t done it in years, not now since he’s been getting older, growing so fast and taller and mature. “You gotta know.”

Dean holds Sam close while Sam wraps his arms around his neck, pulling his body in, thighs squeezing at Dean’s waist like they used too when they were so small it was easy and life was so much more simple.

“You’re my everything,” Sam whispers, mouth so close to Dean’s ear, breathing in hot and soft; scent flourishing like lavender around them, delicate and calming. “Always will be, Dean. Always,” Sam burrows deeper, hips moving closer, pressing down against Dean and arms wrapped so tight Dean can hardly breathe.

Dean feels his blood boiling, simmering hot under his skin as Sam’s scent wraps around him entirely, swirling like a spell around every part of his body. “Ok, Sam,” he mutters, holding him tight before he pushes his younger brother away. “You’re getting too old to be climbing on me like this,” he mutters and Sam unwinds himself, getting onto his own feet. “Not a kid anymore.”

“Sorry,” Sam whispers, a bit ashamed and Dean catches his wrists, looking into his deep, space bursting eyes.

“Sammy. Thank you,” he whispers and Sam nods, leaning in just close enough to press his mouth to Dean’s cheek, kissing him carefully. “You’re food’s getting cold and you need to eat. Bet you’re starving. You giant.”

Sam pulls away with a sparkle in his eyes and grins. “We’re ok then?” he ask, just to be sure and Dean nods.

“Always ok, Sammy,” he nods just before Sam pulls away and moves towards his food. Dean watches him dig in and feels his heart fill with calm waves.

Sam still appreciates him that’s really all that matters. Dean bites into a cold piece of bacon and watches his little brother shovel food into his mouth. As long as he doesn’t have to worry about that, he’s good. Sam’s all he got, Sam is the reason for being, if Sam still cares, if Sam still appreciates and loves him, Dean’s good with that.

 

Dean leaves Sam in the afternoon, telling him he’s got work things to do and Sam nods, looking up from his text book. “You gonna be out long?” he asks carefully. On the weekends if Dean isn’t working late or a full shift they normally grill burgers on the little barbecue pit behind the house, watch horrible action movies and hang out.

Dean slides his jacket on and looks at his watch briefly, the guy he’s meeting is about 30 minutes out of town. “Shouldn’t be that long, I’ll get something for dinner on the way home, ok?” 

Sam looks slightly disappointed. “We’re still good, right?” he asks him.

Dean offers a side-lipped smile. “Yeah, Sammy, we’re still good. I’ll be back. Finish up your homework, I’ll be back before you know it.”

San nods and watches Dean leave, his fingers curling around his pencil, stressed. “Ok, Dean. Be careful.”

Dean gives him a quick little salute and heads out of the house. As he’s pulling out of the driveway, his phone chirps with a text. 

_“You better come back tonight.”_

Dean laughs and checks his rear view mirror, Sam is standing in the open doorway looking worried. Dean pulls himself out the window and turns to his brother. “Get your ass back into the house, I’ll see you a few hours!” he yells.

Sam waits there for a few moments before he nods and gives a little embarrassed smile.

20 minutes later Dean gets another text from Sam.

_I’m serious, Dean. Drive safely, that truck is a piece of shit._

Dean snorts and tucks his phone back into his jacket pocket.

 

His name is Steve. Dean met him at the bar the other night, told him he has what he’s looking for. Won’t tell anyone. Dean hadn’t a clue how he figured him out, but he’s glad he came across him when he did.

The transaction is quick and easy, Steve slides his personal cell number into Dean’s pocket and gives him a wink and a smile. “Anytime you need more, just let me know. We need to stick together, right?” He smells like hearty sandalwood and oak. Rich and deep.

Dean nods and stuffs the bottle of pills into his coat pocket. “Thanks, man. I’ll call you next time I’m running low.” But Dean doesn’t even know if he’ll be in town the next time.

Steve nods and leans against the truck. “So, who you hiding from? Work? School?” he speaks casually, like their one time interaction makes them friends. 

Dean just wants to get back home, back to his brother, make food, watch movies. Not talk to a stranger who’s selling him black market pills to keep his true self under wraps. “Everyone,” Dean answers quickly and looks down at his watch in hopes he looks hurried.

Steve nods and seems to get the point when silence overcomes them. “Well, James, good doing business with you,” Steve nods and pulls away from Dean’s space. “Let me know if you need more, ok?”

Dean nods and opens his door. “Sure thing, Steve, thanks again, man.”

Steve nods and shoves his hands into his pockets. “And if, you know, you want to just hang out,” Steve mouth curls at the corner knowingly, “just give me a call.”

Dean does everything in his power not to scoff at him and merely offers a nod in response as he gets into the car. Steve gives him a small wave as Dean pulls out of the parking lot and heads up the road.

 

“Sam, get the rest of the bags,” Dean announces as he shoves his way through the front door. Sam’s lounging on the couch, watching television and jumps to his feet, eyes sparkling and pretty.

“You came back,” Sam smiles and rushes out of the house, getting the rest of the groceries in a breeze of sweet, happy peony and Dean take a moment to catch a whiff. He grins with a shake of his head on the way to the kitchen. He hears the close behind Sam as the crinkle of plastic bags slide over the card table.

Dean starts to unload into the fridge, putting the meat aside, since he’ll be getting to work on that soon enough. “I told you, I’d be back. Callin me a liar?” he asks him with a smirk and Sam ducks his head when a blush flourishes across his pretty cheekbones.

“Shut up,” Sam mutters and starts pulling out vegetables from the bag. He slips a head of lettuce into the fridge, makes sure the tomatoes don’t bruise and packs the cheese into a drawer. “Just hoped we’d hang out this weekend.”

Dean nods and pulls out spices for the meat. “Get me a bowl will you?” he asks, carefully unwrapping the meat. Sam reaches over him and pulls one down the top shelf and sets it in front of Dean before he goes back to finish putting the rest of the groceries away. “Did you get your homework done?” Dean question after a moment, finger deep in molding the meat against his palms. Dean likes to make his own hamburger mix, hates the way the pre made patties taste. No spice. Bland and gross. Before Sam can answer he speaks up again. “Can you cut up the tomato and onions? Make sure here are enough onions.”

Sam laughs. “Your love of onions is disturbing,” Sam comments as he grabs the worn cutting board from the sink. “Thank god, we’re not driving, hate your extra onions in little spaces.”

Dean cups a scoop of meat into his hand and starts working it into a hamburger patty. “You love it and you know it,” Dean grins with a wink and Sam’s smile is blinding as he rolls his eyes and they settle down into a quiet comfort, preparing dinner, like a normal family.

 

Dean considers giving into letting Sam have a beer, what with his eyes so sweet and begging. “Dude, you’re not going to like it,” he warns after a long pull from his bottle. Sam huffs beside him and turns back to the television with a petulant frown. Dean grins and kicks at his ankle after a minute or so, eyes on the screen, his bottle extended.

Sam makes a triumphant little whoop and reaches over, taking a drink.

As predicted it comes right out as quickly as it went in.

“Oh my god, that’s _disgusting_!” he chokes out with a cough and guzzles down the rest of his Pepsi. Dean barks out a loud laugh and grabs the bottle before it spills even more into the couch cushion.

“Warned you,” Dean takes a drink and sets his empty plate on the coffee table, leaning back against the couch full and content.

Sam coughs again and this time Dean smacks him hard on the back with a lingering smile. He turns wet eyes at him. “Dad drinks that stuff like it’s water!” he shakes his head with a full body shudder. “Gross,” he mutters and bites into his burger.

“Takes time to get used to it,” Dean tells him. Dean’s first drink was around Sam’s age, hated it then, but Dad let him drink some more as he got older and Bobby was cool enough to let him steal some without giving him to much grief, tastes normal now. Tastes good, especially ice cold after a long day.

“How are you buying it anyway? You’re not even legal yet,” Sam comments, eyes on the screen. They’re watching some Adam Sandler movie that doesn’t totally suck. Sam glances over at Dean curiously when he doesn’t get an immediate answer.

Little towns are a little more lenient then some of the bigger cities they’ve stayed in. Dean looks old enough and when they’re questions, flirting always helps. “Cute girl at the grocery store likes my face,” Dean answers and he can see Sam rolling his eyes. “Most of the time, they don’t even ask,” he adds and finishes his bottle, setting it beside his plate. Sam is still working on his plate. “Food good?” he asks him and gets an enthusiastic nod in answer. “There’s more if you want.”

They watch the movie and when it goes on commercial and Sam is finished with his plate he leans over and sets it down on the table. “So Dad called while you were out.”

“Oh yeah?” Dean keeps his eyes on the Old Spice commercial. 

“Yeah,” Sam shifts over on the couch, inching his way a little closer, Dean can feel the heat of his body, smell him.

“And?” he finally looks over at Sam. “What did Dad have to say?” he asks.

Sam shrugs, reaching over for a pillow from the other side of the couch. He tosses it against Dean’s body and presses against him as he stretches his legs out. “Not much, said he can’t figure this hunt out, taking longer than he thought it would. Doesn’t know when he’ll be back. Apparently Bobby’s supposed to wire us some money,” Sam looks up at Dean and shrugs. “He doesn’t want us using the credit cards, thinks he’s being tracked.”

Dean nods and stands up to get himself another beer. Sam tumbles down to the couch with a surprised squeak and Dean snorts as he grabs the empty bottle and plates.

“Want anything while I’m up?” he asks his brother and opens the fridge, grabs for a beer and another Pepsi when Sam calls out for it. "Last one tonight, don't need you bouncing off the walls,” Dean hands over the soda and sits back down, adjusting the pillow back into place for Sam who smiles and leans back into him gratefully. “How’s the essay coming along?” he asks.

Sam freezes beside him the moment Dean asks the question. It takes him a bit to respond, and Dean is very aware that Sam’s being very careful on how he answers it. “Chad is letting me talk to one of his sisters,” he finally answers, “she’s dating an Alpha so, yeah.”

They leave it at that as the movie comes back from commercial. Dean takes a long drink from his beer and looks down when he feels Sam’s hand tug at his fingers, pulling them down from the back of the couch and wrapping them around his. Dean curls them together and lets their hands rest on Sam’s stomach, chuckling when Sam laughs hysterically at the movie; feeling the warm, happy bounce of Sammy’s amusement under his palm.

 

In the morning Dean wakes up to find Sam stretched across his chest on the couch, breathing quietly. Sam is getting too old and too long for this, Dean finds himself thinking as he shifts uncomfortably.

His tongue feels thick and dry, peeling itself from the roof of his mouth and there's a dull throb against his temples. He checks his watch. 

Almost seven in the morning and he sighs, rubbing at his eyes with the hand that's not dead and asleep under Sam.

God he needs water.

Dean carefully rolls Sam over to the back of the couch and manages to spring free. He wobbles for a bit and makes sure Sam is fully covered before he heads to the kitchen.

Two glasses of water and an Advil later Dean makes his way to his own bed and lays back down.

It's Sunday, no work, time to sleep in. He yawns and falls back alseep almost instantly. 

 

Next time Dean wakes up he feels Sam's warm breath on his neck and he jerks away, startled.

"Sammy, you're gettin too old for this," he mutters, voice deep and sleepy, but he wraps his arms around his slender body anyway and tugs him in close. 

"Shut up," Sam mumbles, mouth dry against Dean's neck. His fingers curl around Dean's shirt. "Not too old."

Dean sniffs and yawns, sleep still pulling behind his eyes. "Need to get up, do some training," his jaw pops behind another yawn.

Sam curls his ankle around Dean's calf and pulls in closer. "Later, sleep now."

"Sam-"

"Dean, shut the fuck up."

And Dean laughs giving Sam's hair a lazy tug before falling back asleep.

 

Thunder booms in the dark clouds above but Dean's only concern is making sure the last of the cans are on the fence.

"Ok, Sammy, I want you to shoot them all down, first try. Got it?" Dean moves away and heads back to his brother a good 30 feet away from the fence.

Sam sighs, gun in his hand, eyes dark and resigned. "Dean, I don't see the point-"

"You need to be able to shoot from a distance when you can and Dad will be pissed if you don't train. Come on, suck it up and aim."

"But, Dean-"

Dean clamps a hand around Sam's wrist. "Just hit the cans and we'll call it a day," he instructs just as the first drops of rain fall upon them. He cracks a grin. "Faster you shoot em down, faster we go back in."

Sam huffs. "This is stupid, you know I can shoot," he mutters raising the gun leveled to his target.

Dean crosses his arms over his chest and stands behind him. "Prove it, little brother," he nudges and steps back. 

It takes three tries before Sam hits them all on the first go. Rain has soaked through their clothes and lightning is illuminating the sky. 

They run back to the house, Sam slipping in a puddle and Dean laughs, pulling him back up on his feet.

"It wasn't that funny," Sam wipes his forehead, a heavy stripe of mud on his sleeve. "Like you haven't fallen before." Dean can't stop laughing. "Shut up, jerk."

Dean reaches up and swipes his sleeve down Sam’s cheek. “Yeah, ok. Good job, Sammy. Thank the rain, otherwise we’d still be out there,” he gives him a wink and smacks his ass. “Go get cleaned up, I’ll make food.”

 

It’s spaghetti, green salad and garlic bread for dinner. Sam wants them to sit at the card table like a normal family for once and Dean obliges easily. They have the tv on but it’s more for background noise. 

“Do you think Dad will let you go on a hunt with him soon, you know, now that you’re older?” Sam asks, shaking a heap of Parmesan cheese over his dinner plate.

Dean shrugs, taking a bite from his bread. Sam looks sad and a little worried. “Don’t know. If I go with him that’ll leave you alone, don’t know if he’d want that,” Dean admits and takes a drink from his beer.

Sam eyes him warily. “You know, it wouldn’t be bad if-”

But Dean shakes his head, “You’re fourteen, Sam. If it’s not with me, it’s Bobby,” he sets his fork down and eyes his brother carefully. “You’re too young to be alone,” he hesitates for a moment, “if that’s what you’re looking for.”

Dean can’t imagine himself being alone at fourteen, didn’t even get the chance to think about it since he’s been taking care of Sam most of his life but Sam. Sam doesn’t have anyone to take care of, not like he did. The thought of not wanting Dean around kinda hurts and Dean shakes his head.

“If you’re unhappy with me-”

Sam slaps his hand on the tabletop and forces Dean to look at him. “Shut up, Dean,” he says, “that’s not what I’m saying. So stop it.”

Dean eyes him warily.

“It’s just that,” Sam shrugs, “I can tell you’re bored. Hate working these stupid jobs, know you’d rather be with Da-”

“You’re wrong, Sam,” Dean sets his fork down against his plate and leans forward on his forearms. “I want to be here with you. Make sure you’re ok. Got it?”

Sam blushes and nods passively across the table. “Good,” he whispers softly. “That’s nice, Dean. Thank you.”

Dean quirks an eyebrow and grabs for his fork again. “Want me all to yourself, don’t ya kid?” he grins and the smile that meets him makes his heart beat so fast he doesn’t know if his chest can contain it.

“Me and you Dean. Always me and you, right?” he smiles, red sauce caked around his lips and Dean can’t help the bloom of warmth that spreads through his chest.

“Yeah, Sammy, me and you,” Dean shuffles his food around the plate, grinning as he looks up and catches the happy smile on Sam’s face.

 

Dinner over and plates soaking in the sink Dean is sitting in front of the TV catching up on the sports stats, polishing his guns when Sam’s voice interrupts.

“What’s this?” Sam, digs his hands inside the couch cushion. Dean turns to him curiously as Sam pulls out a book. Dean lowers the gun as Sam eyes it curiously. “The Pill: Does it work?” Sam reads aloud and turns, “Dean, is this yours?” he asks him, eyes wide.

Dean feels his heart plummet to his feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry, it's taken so long to get this out but I started a new job and this feels like a filler chapters, but I'm working on the next chapter. Thanks for sticking by and reading!


	6. Chapter 6

Dean’s unsure how long he’s been staring at the book in Sam’s hand without saying a word but it’s long enough that Sam calls out his name again. And again. But he can’t hear him, not a word, eyes targeted locked on the book, the book that could unravel his very existence. What the fuck was he thinking bringing it out? How could he be so careless?

It takes a moment, time coming back to life, reality going from a horrible blur or to pin point precision and he can hear Sam calling his name. Dean finally turns his eyes to his brother, sees the clear confusion, the curiosity behind his eyes and Dean can feel his his heart drumming in absolute horror.

“Dean?” Sam shakes the book in the air, waiting for some sign of life from his brother. “Dude, are you even breathing?” he laughs.

“It’s uh,” Dean snaps back, like he’s been shocked into the present, brain scrambles for a reasonable excuse for it. “It’s not mine,” he turns away and looks down at the gun clenched between his fingers, knuckles white, his blood pulsing, his breath so shallow he can hardly breathe. “It’s Bobby’s. He just. He thinks. I’m not. Thought I’d-” Dean struggles to form a complete sentence, hoping Sam doesn’t see it, see how distressed he is. 

“Is this about those black market pills?” Sam opens the book and flips through the pages curiously. “I heard about them in my Health class,” Sam speaks, eyes reading a bit. “Why are you reading this?” he closes the book and looks up at Dean questionably.

Dean drops the gun onto the floor, glad there are no bullets. He’s sure if there were bullets, at least one would’ve gone off. “I-well, Bob-”

Sam watches him carefully, curiously and after a while he crosses his arms over his chest. “What’s the matter with you?”

Dean fumbles to grab the gun and drops it again. His face flushed and mortified. “Nothing! Nothing’s wrong with me, why would something be-”

Sam shakes head and turns back to his own textbook. “You’re so weird, sometimes. Acting guilty, almost like,” Sam pauses and slowly turns up to look Dean in the eyes. “Gotta tell me something, Dean?” Sam asks curiously, eyes shifting back to the book.

Dean’s heart stops.

After a second Sam laughs and shakes his head. “You should see your face!” he chuckles and turns down to his textbook again. “Not like you need them anyway,” he snorts and reaches into his backpack. “You know, it’s a good thing they’re not legal.”

Dean doesn’t say a word, just looks at his brother as he rummages through his bag. Trying to breathe like a normal human being. 

“I mean, it’s kinda twisted, right?”

Dean still can’t find his words. So Sam continues.

“Why would someone want to take those pills? It’s a little self loathing, don’t you think?” Sam finds his pencil and lifts his legs up, folding them under him as he settles back against the couch. 

Dean manages to find the ability to breathe, heart still feels useless in his chest though but manages to find some words. “Why?” he asks carefully.

Sam doesn’t look at him as he shrugs. “I mean, Omegas take them to suppress their heat, right? That’s what my teacher says,” Sam looks up briefly. “Mrs. Mills said that an Omega’s heat is the most important thing an Omega can offer an Alpha. If the pill's job is to stop that, isn’t that kind of like stopping them from being who they are?”

Dean swallows painfully. This is turning serious. Way to serious. Way too close to home. Dean struggles to find a way to change the conversation but what comes out of his mouth does anything but that. “What if they’re taking them to protect themselves?”

And Sam turns to Dean, pinning him with clear, starburst eyes. “Protecting themselves from what? What do you mean?”

Dean finds the courage, doesn’t know how but his fingers curl around his dull gun. “The pill doesn’t just suppress an Omega’s heat. It also changes the way they smell. The way people react to their scent. The way people react to _them_ , how they perceive them. Makes them different, like an Alpha, maybe. Don’t you think that some Omegas don’t want others to think that’s what they are?”

Sam turns thoughtful, rolling his pencil between his fingers. “Ok, I get that but, isn’t it sad that the Omega feels like they have to hide who they really are? When you think about it, if an Omega feels like they need to hide what they were born to be, they’re probably ashamed of being an Omega and that’s kind of heartbreaking.” Sam frowns and it looks real, like he’s sad and concerned for all those Omegas who do take the pill. Omegas like Dean.

Dean breathes in deep. “True, but maybe being an Omega is not what the they think their family wanted them to be. Maybe the pills help them feel better about themselves, not ignoring who they are, but being who they should be. Who they _deserve_ to be.”

Sam contemplates that for a moment, chewing at his bottom lip. “But shouldn’t their family love them despite who they were born to be? Just because they’re an Omega doesn’t mean they’re useless, for some Alphas it’s the most important thing in the world. You shouldn’t be ashamed about it. It’s a gift, it’s normal and what should be.”

Dean feels his heart start beating again, sputtering back to life. “Yeah?”

And Sam nods. “Parents should love their kids regardless of how they present. Obviously Alphas are desired but being an Omega can be a gift to an Alpha,” Sam says like he knows what he’s talking about and maybe he does. “I want my Omega to be proud of who they are. I want my Omega to love themselves and know that they are just as important in the relationship. To know they matter, that they’re loved. We’re a partnership, I want them to believe that we’re equal.”

And Dean feels his breath catch in his throat. His little brother is pretty amazing. “That’s good, Sam. When you meet that person, make them feel like they are the most important person in the world.”

And Sam smiles, puffing his chest. “Yeah, I will, Dean,” Sam nods and shly turns back to his text book. 

Dean watches him for a moment, no words and feels the heaviness of the gun in his hand. He looks down and reaches for the polish and cloth, Sam’s sweet words floating around in his mind. He excuses himself and heads for the bathroom.

Time to take the pills.

 

When Sam turns 16 everything seems to change. Not only does he skyrocket in height but he also starts dating regularly which is kinda crazy; he brings home girls who writhe against him eager for his affection, for his knot and the smile is so wide on his face Dean has to roll his eyes sometimes.

“Emily and I are going to the movies,” Sam leans up against Dean, presses against him in the bathroom so that Emily doesn’t hear them. Their bodies slide together like a glove, familiar and Dean looks over his shoulder catching Sam’s grin.

Dean shifts away grabs the hand towel Sam’s offering and wipes the residual wetness from his hands. “Don’t be home too late,” he tells him and moves away, breaking away from the sweet warmth of Sam.

“You ok with it? Even though it’s during the week?” Sam asks carefully. Dean nods and examins himself in the vanity mirror. He could use a shave before his own date. “I’ll call you if I’m gonna be late,” Sam says as Dean presses shaving cream into the palm of his hand. Sam can’t stop looking at him and Dean catches his eyes in the mirror.

“Ok,” he says smoothing the cool cream over his face, not too thick. “Remember you have school tomorrow, kid,” Dean mutters taking the razor to his chin.

Sam backs away and nods. “You going somewhere?” he asks him quietly, watching with laser vision.

Dean smirks and slides the razor along his cheek. “Girl came into the shop today. Should’ve seen her, Sammy, ass so sweet you can flip a coin on it,” Dean gives his brother a dirty wink. “If you’re home before I am, don’t wait up, ok?”

And Sam nods, stepping further back, eyes unclear and stormy. “What’s her name?” he asks and Dean shakes the razor in the murky water of the sink before he strokes against the other cheek.

“Carrie? Caroline? Fuck, I don’t know, but it won’t matter,” Dean grins, “if you know what I mean.”

Sam takes in a deep breath and looks out the door for a moment, checking on his date before he turns his eyes back the mirror where he can see Dean. “Yeah, ok, well, have a good time. If you’re not coming home, let me know, ok?”

And Dean nods, curling his tongue under his bottom lip to shave the groove of his chin. “Will do, Sammy.”

When Sam turns to leave Dean moves and grasps his wrist, pulling him back. “Hey, I’ve got condoms in the nightstand, take some, will ya?”

Sam snaps his arm back and looks at his brother with a pointed glare. “I have some. Just make sure you have some too.”

And Dean tilts his head, eyeing his brother carefully. “What’s your problem?” 

Sam shakes his head and moves towards the door. “Nothing, Dean. Have a good time tonight.”

“You too,” Dean stop midway down his cheek and turns to his brother. “Sam-”

“I’m fine. I’ll text you if I’m running late,” and Sam disappears through the door.

Dean finishes shaving. He can hear the muffled voices of Sam and this Emily girl. Sam calls out a farewell and after a few minutes Dean hears the front door open and close, leaving him alone in the house.

They’re back in Kansas, Sam’s been going to school for a few weeks and is still the sexy new guy who no one knows anything about. He’s quite possibly the most exciting person in the small town they’re stuck in.

Dad is hunting a pack of Rugarus in the next town over, but he’s been gone for three weeks so Dean is pretty sure he’s lying to them and doing something else. Something he doesn’t want to tell Dean about. Something he wants to keep a secret. It pisses Dean off having to lie to Sam when he asks what’s taking so long.

Sams school is down the street, an easy walk when Dean can’t drop him off. False files got him in and he’s the best student in his AP classes. Only a Junior and so fucking smart Dean can’t help but feel proud about it. Always has been so smart, no matter where he's coming from. 

Dean finds a job at a local garage, working on cars and hates to admit that it’s a pretty awesome gig. He gets his hands dirty and works on the most beautiful cars he can imagine, glad that Bobby taught him a trade that's useful anywhere. Corey, his boss, took to him immediately, almost like he and Dean are cut from the same cloth, it makes for a great working environment. As long as by the end of the day work gets done, he’s free to do what he wants, even if that means flirting with anyone and anything that walks into the shop. Dean doesn’t hate it.

Dean finishes up in the bathroom, taking the hand towel, clearing off the leftover shaving cream from his cheeks. He tries not to think of Sam who’s been going out almost every night of the week whether it be a study group in the library or an off hand date. He’s active and prowling, Dean can tell by all the dating, so many people, sometimes the same girl but still pretty casual, no one seems to stick.

Dean looks at himself in the mirror. Can’t ignore the good genes the Winchesters have pushed down over the years. Dean knows he’s pretty fucking good looking, better than most and the girls and guys in the shop seem to mess with him, especially when he gets the attention of the good looking customers who seem to ask for him personally. It doesn’t mean that it takes away from the fact that he still swallows the pills every day to calm the real him. Dean still uses the Alpha scent spray every day, going through it so quickly but it keeps him hidden and even finds Alphas taking a whiff of him and enjoying the sight. Guess it doesn’t matter when it comes to attraction and Dean is easily one to be attractive to most.

Catherine, is beautiful, firm and gorgeous as she strolls down her walkway to the truck and slides in. She dropped off her father’s 1940's Chevy and looked almost as good.

“You look great,” she comments on the leather jacket Dean’s wearing. “You know my parents would ground me if they knew I was going out with someone like you,” she whispers like it’s a secret, licking up along the shell of his ear. She’s hot, smells like cherries and the salty beach sand. Dean holds the groan in the back of this throat and reaches out, sliding a hand along her small waist, pulling her in, closer so her firm body presses against him.

“Is that going to be a problem?” he asks deeply and she grins, wickedly.

“No. Not really,” she licks down along the column of Dean’s neck and he grasps at the steering wheel. It’s going to be a good night. 

 

Dean comes back to the house late in the afternoon, debauched and feeling so good no one can get him down.

That is until he walks through the door and Sam is charging at him, full speed until his fist collides with his chin and sends Dean stumbling back in blinding pain.

“You, fucking son of a bitch!” 

Dean grabs at his chin, not like it will help the blooming throb of pain, stinging him all the way to his temples. “Goddamnit, Sammy, what the _fuck_!?”

“Three days!” Sam’s voice is shrill and louder than anything Dean has ever heard in his life. “Three fucking days you asshole!”

Dean backs up towards the door, eyes wide and confused. Sam doesn’t back down, moving at him like he’s about to rip him into shreds, his eyes dark and so wild, unlike Dean has ever seen them.

“I called your job! I called Bobby!” Sam yells angrily, waving his hands into the air, thrumming with anger, his body shaking with livid rage. “I called _Dad_!” Sam finishes with a choked yell, backing Dean against the closed front door.

Dean’s blood run cold and he feels himself reacting. “Why the hell did you do that?” he barks out and Sam trips as he takes a step back, hair falling into his his eyes, darkening, unwilling to back down.

“I couldn’t get a hold of you, kept going to voicemail. No one knew where you were!” Sam barks and Dean notices the wet sheen in his eyes. “ _Three_ days, Dean!” Sam breathes, his voice quieting down, breath so heavy Dean can almost feel it in his bones, shaking him down. “Didn’t know what happened to you," Sam whispers harsh and low, trembling with rage, he looks so wrecked, and Dean can hardly stand it.

Dean closes his eyes. After his night with Catherine he met Shawna at a bar, stayed with her all day, fucking, breathing in her scent, touching every part of her until she unraveled under his hands and crying out his name. Then it was Maryann at the gas station down the street. She took him home; blond hair so long he could pull at it while she writhed under him, skin so sweet and slick as he fucked her until she screamed into the mattress. And then David, small, under him and willing to do everything he wanted, Dean didn’t even tell him his real name, just used and left him sleeping on his bed as he left to go back home.

Dean shakes his head until the faraway sound of his brother’s voice courses through his veins, so loud it echos in his ears.

“I was going to call the police!” he yells and Dean looks into Sam’s eyes, so broken and scared. “You piece of shit," he breathes painfully, eyes so dark and wet and so fucking sad Dean hates it.

It starts to drip down his spine, the guilt and apology. 

Sam moves in, slamming Dean back against the door, his hands gripped into his shirt, pinning in him place, so strong it’s unreal. “Do you even know what the fuck was going through my head, Dean?” Sam cut, sharp and emotionally, shoving him hard again, Dean’s head bounces off the wood. “Thought you were in a fucking ditch somewhere, thought you were _dead_. You-” and Sam lets him go, releases him and Dean slides down to his feet. “You fucking-” and Sam steps further back, moving towards the couch until he’s sitting down, hands digging into his long shaggy hair, head shaking like he can't understand what's happening, unbelievable. “Scared. I was _so_ fucking scared, you asshole.”

Dean takes a shaky step forward, towards the couch, towards Sam but Sam jumps up and moves away so fast. “My phone died,” Dean starts trying to explain. But there are no words, nothing that’s going to take that grieving look from his brother’s face. “I wasn’t even thinking-”

And Sam shakes his head, he’s so much taller now, a growth spurt that sent him skyrocketing. He’s bigger, stronger, almost towering over Dean now and yet he looks like the little kid Dean remembers years ago. For the first time Dean registers the tears sliding down his face. “Sammy-”

“Couldn’t even pick up a goddamn phone to tell me you were alive, you selfish jerk,” Sam mutters and moves further away. “Three days, ” he shakes his head and starts heading for his room. Dean intercepts him, curling a hand around Sam's arm but Sam shoves him away like he's poison. Like the very touch of Dean burns him. And it breaks Dean's heart. "Good to see you're alive," he wipes at his face and goes to his room, slamming the door shut behind him.

Dean stares at the door, his first instinct is to tear it down, plow through but he hurt Sam, made him worry. He didn’t even think about what he was doing. Didn’t even remember to call, to make sure that Sam, his caring little brother, know that he was still ok. 

Dean moves forward and knocks on the door because he wants him to know that everything is ok. That Sam’s ok and most importantly, that Dean’s sorry. Sorry for making him worry. John does it to him all the time and Dean hates it, the way he feels after each phone call. Now he did it to Sam, but this time he doesn’t know what it will take to fix it. Sam is hurting and it’s painful.

Sam doesn’t make a sound behind the door, ignores him and that’s what Dean expects; he would do the same. It’s the stubborn Winchester genes that refuses to give in, refuse to let the easy way out win. Sam won’t answer Dean, he’s too angry, to upset.

So Dean sighs and moves away from Sam’s door, heading to the kitchen. He’d starving, needs to get nourishment after his escapades. He wants to make something good but there’s nothing in the fridge so Dean grabs the keys from the coffee table and heads to the door. He looks back into the house, as if Sam is there standing by for him but he’s not and Dean turns away and heads for the car. He’s going to make it up to Sam, doesn’t really know how, but good food will help.

 

Sam doesn’t come out of his room until Dean pounds on the door and tells him dinner is ready. It’s steak and mashed potatoes, steamed vegetables and good beer that Sam can now appreciate since he’s been getting used to it from the last time he first tried it.

Sam piles the food on the plate and starts walking towards his room when Dean speaks up. “No,” Dean stops him, hand on his arm and Dean can feel his muscles tense, tighten under his palm. “You gonna eat, you’re eating out here at the table. Got it?”

Sam doesn’t even spare him a glance and it rips right through Dean’s chest. “Fine,” he mutters and pulls out a chair, eyes down on the table, refusing to look at Dean.

Dean breathes, getting his own food, flashing glances in his brother’s direction which reap no benefits. Sam is still so pissed at him, won’t even look at him. “Sam.”

“Steak’s good,” Sam says fully withdrawn and continues to eat. “Thanks,” Sam eats, shoveling food into his mouth. He’s eating so fast, his plate is almost gone by the time Dean actually sits down at the table.

By the time Sam is done, Dean has hardly touched his food and Sam gets to his feet washing his dish in the sink and walks back to his room. Dean gets to his feet, tired. He’s tired of being ignored. He knows what he did was wrong, he’s been feeling the horrible crush of weight on his chest all day and he can’t take it anymore.

"Sammy, come on. I'm sorry!" He calls out behind door, standing in front of it.

Sam ignores him and Dean knocks on the door. When he doesn’t get a response he readies himself and turns the knob shoving forward. Sam’s on his bed, headphones over his ears as he turns towards Dean, his eyes wide in surprise. Dean stumbles for a moment, catching his footing and stands up tall when Sam looks hatefully in his direction.

“Get out!” Sam orders the moment the sudden shock deteriorates. But Dean shakes his head and moves towards the bed, taking a seat on the corner. Sam kicks at him and Dean moves, too quick to avoid Sam's monster foot in his stomach. "I don't want to talk to you right now!" Sam admits, not as mad as he looks. 

Dean takes the opportunity. "Sam," he says softly, easing his voice, calming the thrum of his rapid heart, hoping it helps calm his brother down. "You can't ignore me."

Sam looks at him, pulling his headphones off and glaring, still so angry. "You're such an asshole," he says, but the fire is gone. "I'm really pissed off at you right now."

"I know." Dean frowns and sits back down. "Look, I'm so fucking sorry. Don't know what else to say. I wasn’t even aware that-”

“That you’d been gone for days? That you didn’t even bother to tell me that you were still alive?” Sam shouts, throwing his things aside, “Dean, you were gone for three fucking days and not once did you think to call me. I’m gone for a fucking hour and you’re on my ass like I-”

Dean raises his hands in surrender. “Sam, I know. I know, but fuck-” Dean pauses, turning his eyes away. “Sammy, I was drunk-”

Sam launches his pillow at Dean, hitting him right smack in the face. “That’s not an excuse, jerk!” Sam yells.

Dean sighs and tosses the pillow aside, shaking his head. “Yeah, ok, Sam but fuck! What? What do you want me to do? What can I do to make you forgive me? I’m alive, I’m right here,” Dean moves forward, curling his fingers around Sam’s knee. “I’m right here. I’m ok, I’m fine,” Dean reminds him, holding tight and Sam tenses again, like he isn’t used his brother’s touch.

Sam looks like he wants to run, run away from Dean. “I just-” Sam sighs with a shake of his head. “I couldn’t stop thinking about what could’ve happened to you. You don’t even know what I was thinking-”

And Dean stops him right there, crawling up the bed and gathering his brother into his arm. Sam slumps against him, falling into his arms like a rag doll, Dean holds him tight. “Sammy, please,” he whispers and soon Sam’s arms curl around Dean’s back, holding him. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Dean,” Sam sniffs, arms tightening, curling around like they used too, so encompassing that Dean never wants to leave him. “Don’t ever do that again,” he whispers, breathing into Dean’s ear and Dean shudders, drunk with the worried scent curling around him, holding him tight. “Please, Dean. Never again. I was so fucking scared.” And there are tears on his cheeks and pain in his throat.

Dean pulls him closer, the heavy weight of Sam against his chest so comforting, makes him breathe easier, having him so close. “Ok. Promise,” Dean whispers.

Sam shudders, breathing in sporadic breaths. “Ok,” he nods and holds his brother tighter. “I’m still fucking pissed at you, but ok, Dean,” Sam pulls back and his eyes are shining under the light of his bedroom. “And the next time I’m late, you better not say one fucking word, got it?”

And Dean laughs, running his fingers along Sam’s cheek, sweeping the tears across his cheek, warm and soft on his skin. “Got it,” he nods. “I hate when you’re upset. Hate I did that to you, ok?"

Sam shoves at his chest weakly, “C’mere,” Sam pulls him down further against the bed. Dean grumbles but follows and Sam lays down, hauling Dean against him, throwing a leg around his hip, rooting him in place. “This is your punishment, asshole.”

“Being molested by my overgrown brother?” Dean fumbles about but shifts until he’s comfortable under Sam. Of all the things San could do to punish Dean, this is not the worst. Pretty mild in fact. Dean pulls away for a moment and throws off his top shirt, leaving him in an undershirt and jeans.

Sam sniffs and shoves him away suddenly, his face twisting in well deserved disgust. “You smell,” he mutters and turns away from Dean and scoots off toward the edge of the bed, curling into himself. “Go take a shower.”

Dean sniffs at his undershirt and doesn’t smell anything but dinner, he rolls away and gets to his feet. Sam turns and looks over his shoulder, catching Dean’s gaze.

“Shower and come back, ok?”

Dean looks at Sam, so sad on the bed, a little pathetic and small for being so big, all long arms and legs, tucked into his chest. Dean hasn't once tried to imagine how scared Sam was, can’t bring himself to think about what could’ve been going through his mind. He’s had his own nightmares, when Sam’s late from school or on a really long date. Dean could give himself a heart attack thinking of all the things that could happen. All the dangerous things out there he knows about, has known about since he was a kid, things that could happen to his brother, it’s frightening. “Ok,” Dean nods. “I’ll be back. Don’t fall asleep, ok?”

Sam yawns and reaches for his thrown away headphones. “Yeah.”

Dean contemplates this for a moment, eyes on his lonely brother. “Ok,” and he nods, making his way out of Sam’s room, heading for his own to get a clean pair of underwear and sleep clothes.

In the shower Dean makes sure to clean off any residual scent left by any of his flings, scrubbing every surface hard until all Dean can smell is the fresh soap Sam insists on buying even if it’s more expensive than the generic brand. He forgot about them, all of them, while he was trying to figure out a way and doing everything possible to make Sam stop hating him. Despite how great it felt, as soon as Sam attacked, it went away and it’s not even worth thinking about anymore. All he wants is to make Sam feel better.

Before he walks back to Sam’s room he checks his phone. Has a message from Catherine and Maryann. They both want to see him again, want him to call them, want to get some drinks, have some fun. 

Dean looks toward Sam’s closed door, imagines his kid brother behind, lying in bed waiting for him, waiting for that comfort to take away the pain he caused when he went missing. Dean erases the messages from his phone and sets it down, heading for Sam’s room. He gives a quiet knock before he enters just to let Sam know he’s coming in. Dean scratches a hand through his wet hair, little flutters of butterflies flitting around his stomach. 

He doesn’t know why he feels so nervous. It’s not like he hasn’t slept in the same bed with Sam before, did it for years, felt normal then, doesn’t see why it should feel different this time. This is comfort, this is love. This is the kind of closeness that he never wants to give up. Dean turns the knob on door, not hearing a response. He asked Sam to stay awake but it took awhile to shower, he easily could’ve fallen asleep. Dean takes a deep breath, clearing his lungs and opens the door.

The light on the nightstand is still on, a triangle of light on the bed and there’s Sam, lying in bed eyes closed, looks like he’s sleeping.

“Sam,” Dean speaks, closing the door behind him. 

At the sound of his voice Sam’s eyes blink open, he smiles at Dean, wide and pretty, dimples deep and all, emanating the sweet surreal scent of comfort and longing. Dean feels consumed almost making it hard to breathe. “Hi,” Sam says, pulling his earphone from his ears and sets them down on the night stand. Sam’s tucked under the blankets and he reaches out pulling away the other side in welcome for Dean to climb in.

Dean feels himself smile as he sinks down into the bed, sliding between the covers and pulls them over his chest. Sam moves in as soon as he settles, wrapping an arm around Dean’s chest, fingers curling around the clean fabric of Dean’s shirt. He takes a deep, long breath and Sam clutches at him, sliding a leg between Dean’s, pinning him down as he curls his leg around an ankle and pulls him close.

“Thought you forgot about me,” Sam speaks softly, mouth pressed against Dean’s neck, lips so close they brush his skin. “Dean.”

Dean wraps his arm around his brother, pressing him closer, even more so, breathing him in, soaking in the warmth of Sam’s sweet honey sandalwood scent. It’s intoxicating. “Won’t ever forget about you, Sam,” Dean murmurs and reaches out over his head, turning the switch to the lamp off. It cloaks them in darkness. Dean can see the light of the moon spill in through the window. “I’m really sorry, Sammy.”

Sam burrows into Dean’s chest, cheek pressed into Dean’s shoulder, mouth so close to his skin it tingles. “You know, I tried not to scare myself,” Sam whispers, “I hoped you’d call but when you didn’t and I couldn’t get a hold of you, it fucking scared me, Dean,” Sam keeps the same soft speak between them. His fingers curl further into Dean’s shirt.

Dean shifts under the blankets, moves restlessly over the mattress but Sam’s leg curls tightly around his calf and Dean relents to it. “Look, I was drunk, took some shit that kept me out of it, Sam. It wasn’t on purpose, I swear. I swear, man, and I did. I did try to call you but my phone died and I couldn’t remember your number I was so fucking out of it.”

Sam tenses for a moment but Dean won’t let him speak before he does.

“Sammy, everything happened so fast and it felt so fucking amazing,” Sam loosens his hold for just a moment but Dean grabs his hand, the hand over his chest and squeezes it back into place. “Sam, not saying this because I’m an asshole but it’s the truth. You know how it goes right?” Dean tells him carefully, looking down, finding the sparkle of Sam’s eyes in the moonlight.

“Yeah, ok,” Sam nods because Dean's caught Sam’s debauched scent the moment he walks through the door, knows that satisfaction has overruled proper decision making. Dean knows when Sam’s numb and sexed up, walking through a haze of release and the calm a good fuck can do to someone. Dean doesn’t like to think about how much he hates it when he notices it though. How much he wants to throw Sam into the shower and scrub off the offensive smell all over his little brother.

Dean sighs. “Look, there was too much, to many drinks, too high. I was too drunk and I didn’t even think. Can’t think straight when you’re so gone, ok? It wasn’t on purpose, I swear. “ Dean reaches down and curls his hand around Sam’s waist. “I’m sorry it happened,” Dean leans down and presses his mouth over Sam’s temple. ”I really mean it. I _am_ sorry.”

“So you forgot about me,” Sam speaks carefully, but doesn’t move away, which is a positive step, but his words burn, they set fire to Dean’s chest and he hate how it feels under his skin.

“Sammy,” Dean speaks carefully. “Are you going to throw this in my face for the rest of my life?” he tries to joke and Sam laughs, albeit sadly.

“As long as it makes you feel like shit,” Sam pokes his cheek with the tip of his nose playfully. “Don’t do it again, that’s what I want. That’s what I expect, Dean,” Sam whispers like a promise. “Got it?”

And Dean nods, “Ok, Sammy, never again. Promise that,” Dean speaks clearly. “You forgive me right?” Dean nuzzles his nose into the soft lavender smell of Sam’s shampoo. “Can’t hate me even if you wanted to right?” he smiles and Sam laughs beside him.

“You’re such an asshole.”

Dean barks out a loud laugh and tightens his arms around Sam’s body. "That's my boy." Dean waits for a moment before he brings it up to Sam. “Hey, what did you tell Dad?”

Sam shifts over the bed and sighs. “Nothing, didn’t tell him anything just asked if you called him.”

Dean tries not to think of the hurt he’s going to face when John gets a hold of him. There is nothing normal about getting a call asking where they are. “Did he-did he say anything?”

Sam looks up at Dean. “No, just that he hasn’t talked to you in a while. Didn’t seem worried,” Sam admits and Dean nods. Just like his dad. Cold, closed off and not saying anything he means. Dean is sure he’ll get it when Dad comes homes. He may not say anything, but when the times comes, he’ll deal with it.

Dean doesn’t want to think about it. The most important thing is making sure Sam is better. He can deal with Dad, he can get over that disappointment but Sam, Sam is different and he will die before Sam throws him away.

 

Dean has Sam pinned to the ground when his phone rings. 

"You lucked out, kiddo," Dean smirks and pulls away to grab his phone. It's Bobby. "Hey, Bobby,” Dean dodges the hand Sam throws at him with a laugh and get to his feet. “Stay down, loser.”

“Where’s your, Dad, Dean?”

And Dean tenses. “He’s hunting a pack of Rugarus,” Dean tells him, getting serious, the blood starting to pound in nervousness in his veins. Bobby sounds so serious it melts everything else around him.

Sam rushes at Dean and knocks him down to the ground, laughing as his pins him down but Dean throws him off, flashing serious eyes at Sam. “Knock it off,” Dean barks at Sam and climbs back to his feet. Sam suddenly stills and turns serious, smile falling from his face. “Why, Bobby?” Sam gets to his feet and moves beside him, pressing close so he can hear too.

It takes Bobby a moment before he answers. “Those aren’t Rugarus,” Bobby speaks carefully and Dean’s blood goes cold, chest closing up. “Got a call from a hunter.”

“Bobby-”

“We think they’re shifters, Dean. No one’s called you have they?”

Dad had called yesterday, saying he couldn't remember where they were. Was gone so long. Dean caught Sam telling him their location before he could think and Dean stills. Sam told him everything, down to the color of the house.

“Bobby, Sam told them where we are.”

Bobby breathes heavily into the phone. “Dean, you need to get out of there right now. Tried to call John but haven’t gotten a response. Get Sam and leave now-”

“Dean!” Sam calls out, pointing toward the house. “Dad’s back!”

Dean looks over and see’s his father, bloodied and stumbling down the steps. “Boys!” he calls out to them and Dean’s fingers curl around the phone. 

“Dad’s back. Looks like shit, Bobby-”

“Dean, don't-"

But Sam is already heading towards him. Dean drops the phone and runs after Sam.

"Sammy, don't!"

"Its's Dad!" Sam calls behind him reaching out towards their broken father before Dean sees the glint of the knife.

" _Sam_!"


	7. Chapter 7

Dean feels the world blur out into nothing when he see’s John grab Sam by the shirt, knife in hand, ready to pierce it through Sam’s skin until a shot rings out and Dean blinks.

Two dads. The one holding Sam and the other holding a gun, aimed right at the head of the Dad holding Sam.

Dean trips and falls face down on the ground, hearing the shared gunshots, a scream that sounds like Sam and a yell that sounds like his father. Dean looks up, brushing away the leaves and overgrown grass from his line of sight. He can see three people on the back porch. Sam is slumped in the arms of a Dad, which one is real, Dean doesn’t know but he clutches the leaves and crawls back onto his knees and hands, getting to his feet in a quick motion. 

“Sammy!” he yells and both dads look at him before one of them crumbles to the ground, sinking down towards the wet wood of the house. Dean doesn’t know which one wins, gripping his gun as he crawls closer. “Sam!” Dean cries, stumbling towards the deck and Sam struggles, trying to get away from the dead hands clutched around his clothes.

“Dean!” Sam calls out just as Dean reaches him and curls his arm around Dean’s neck in a death grip, hands clawing at the skin around his shoulders..

“Oh my god, Sam,” Dean wraps his arms around Sam, pulling him away from the slumped body of his father. “Are you okay?” he whispers into Sam’s ear and Sam nods, holding on tight as Dean pulls him free, dragging him away.

“Dean, Sam,” John breaks through the air surrounding them all. “Get over here!” John orders and Dean looks up, raising his gun, aiming it right at the other man with the face of his father.

“Put the gun down,” Dean orders, one arm clutched around Sam’s slumped body. Sam is wrapping himself around Dean’s body, pinning them in place. John, lowers the gun immediately but doesn’t let it out of his grip. His eyes are on the two of them, dark and sad, scent so heady Dean can choke on it. Dean’s hand is steady as he holds the gun up, right at the heart. "How do I know you’re my father?” Dean asks solidly. 

The man with the face of John Winchester grips the gun for a moment and Dean watches with held breath as he reaches around his back and tucks the gun away. John raises his hands in surrender. “Dean, it’s me.”

But Dean knows he can’t trust a man’s word. “Name the song my mother sang to us when we were sick,” Dean orders, pulling Sam closer to his body. “What was it?”

John doesn’t hesitate. “Hey Jude,” John says without a thought. “It was her favorite song, was the same song her mother sang to her when she was a kid.”

Dean feels his resolve on the gun loosen as he looks into the eyes of the man who wears his father’s face. He’s right. That is the right song, Dean can almost hear his mother’s voice when he closes his eyes. 

“Dean, it’s me,” John speaks and Dean’s fingers tighten on the gun, aimed right at him. His hands are still up in surrender. “I’m your father.”

Sam stirs against Dean’s hold, his head pulling up and looking at the man standing in front of them.

“Dad?” he speaks softly, loud enough for the three of them to hear and the John’s face softens. 

“Sammy, it’s me. I swear to god, it’s me.”

Dean feel’s Sam’s hands clutch tighter as he leans in close. “Can’t be sure, Dean. Shifters acquire the thoughts and memories of their victims,” Sam whispers and Dean’s handle on the gun tightens again. “Can’t find out.”

Dean nods and shoves Sam behind him in protection, he manages to slide the silver blade from Sam’s back pocket in the process and points it in John’s direction. “If you really are, Dad, then you won’t mind a little test check.”

John takes a deep breath. “Not necessary. I told you, I’m your-”

Before He can finish Dean shoves Sam aside and launches himself on John, pinning him against the house, knife at his neck and gun under his chin. “My father would never try and stop me from making sure you’re not a monster.”

John’s eyes darken just as he uses his own weight to off balance Dean and it’s only seconds before Dean’s slammed up against house instead, head bouncing painfully against the wood. John breathes sour breath down on him. “Good, Dean, that’s real good,” John nods and then moves away after a few moments. He plucks the knife from Dean’s hand and rolls up his sleeve to his elbow, forearm out for Dean to see and places blade to skin.

“Dad,” Sam whispers as red blood drips open from the new wound. John turns around and wipes the blood from the knife on his pant leg and offers it back to Sam who takes a shaky step forward and takes the knife back. 

Dean lets out a heavy breath of air. “Fuck,” he mutters and his father grabs for Sam, checking him out.

“He didn’t do anything to ya, did he son? Didn’t stick ya?” He pulls and tugs at Sam’s clothes much to Sam’s protesting.

“No. Dad. Come on! Stop, I’m _fine_. Fuck, I’m not a kid,” Sam tries to shove him away.

John rears at him. “Watch that language, Sam,” he warns and palms along Sam’s back before he gives a nod when he’s sure Sam’s ok. “We’re leaving. Get your things packed and ready to go,” John instructs them, and Dean swears he should be used to it by now but this place they’ve managed to stay at longer. Sam’s got friends, Dean’s got a job, one he actually likes things are good here.

But then again, nothing’s ever come for them before and that must definitely have his father freaking out. Dean isn’t too sure why he isn’t freaking out more himself. The son of a bitch was going to knife Sam in front of his own eyes.

That realization really seems to sink in at that moment. That son of a bitch was about to stab his little brother.

Dean takes a shaky step toward Sam. “Sammy, c'mere,” he waves his hand and Sam moves to him immediately with a frown. Even after watching his dad check him out, Dean needs to do it himself, just to make sure. Just because he needs too.

Sam doesn’t flinch or make a sound as Dean’s hands move over his body; inside his jacket, sliding under his shirt to feel the warm flesh of Sam’s back; down his sides, smoothing across his stomach, checking for any blood, tear of the skin, clothes, anything that means his brother’s hurt.

“Did he get you?” Dean asked softly and Sam moves in closer, his body radiating warmth, careful waves of woods and spice tinted scent rolling along his shoulders and Dean can feel it through his clothes.

“No, just grabbed me. Dad shot him before the knife went in,” Sam mutters, letting his head fall to Dean’s shoulder with a sigh. “I’m ok, Dean.” Sam’s eyes soften and Dean palms his cheek just as Sam’s eyes close with a deep breath. “I’m ok.”

A loud clearing of John’s throat jerks Dean away from Sam. “Both of you inside now. Get your stuff together; I’m going to get some gas, better be ready to leave by the time I get back.”

As John passes he’s exuding such a harsh, suffocating scent, Dean can’t help but cough as he guides Sam back into the house.

Dean know’s he’s going to be blamed for this as soon as John has him alone.

 

Sam’s sleeping in the back seat and they’re almost two hundred miles outside of Kansas when John reaches out and lowers the music. 

Dean won’t look at him, hasn’t said a word since leaving the house. He knows it’s coming and he’s been trying to keep Sam up, playing stupid car games just so he doesn’t have to face it but Sam begged off for sleep and Dean couldn’t deny it.

John takes in a deep breath, his fingers clenching and unclenching the steering wheel. Dean doesn’t have to do much more than take a sniff at the air in the car to know his father is livid. His pheromones rolling out like rage and just a beat of self control.

“Dad,” Dean speaks softly but the car jerks to the side of the road, off in a clearing where they’re safe from traffic.

John doesn’t say anything as he turns the car off and Dean feels his muscles tighten under his clothes, his heart starting to race.

“Get out of the car, Dean,” John instructs, low and controlled.

Dean turns to him but John isn’t looking at him as he opens the driver side door and steps out. Dean looks over at Sam who hasn’t stirred and figures if he doesn’t get out on his own, his father will pull him out of the seat himself.

Outside all Dean hears is the rush of cars zooming down the highway, he makes sure to close the door without much noise, not to wake Sam and leans back just as John turns the corner of the car and stalks towards him.

“Sam could have been killed, Dean,” John speaks and grabs for Dean’s jacket, hauling him away from the car, pulling him further into the wooded area to give them some privacy. “What the fuck were you thinking over there?”

Dean tugs away from his father’s hold in complete astonishment. “Oh come on, Dad!” Dean throws his hands in the air in frustration. “Are you kidding me? What happened is _not_ my fault!” He knew it was coming.

But John looks like he’s ready to fight and Dean’s never seen the red of his eyes before; it’s frightening and he takes a step back. “Your job is to _protect_ your brother, Dean. How the fuck did you let this happen?” John explodes moving at him threateningly. “Haven’t I taught you anything for fucks sakes?” It’s like he’s trying to restrain himself but Dean knows his father is two seconds away from blowing up. “Goddamnit, I leave him with you so shit like this won’t happen!” John grabs for Dean’s arm, this time, clamping down and holding him in place so Dean can see the rage in his face. “How could you let something like this happen? What the fuck are you doing?" He bristles. "Oh I think I know what you have been doing," he growls.

Dean shoves his father away. “Fuck you!” Dean yells and knows it’s a mistake the second the words leave his mouth because his father has a hold of him again and is sneering in his face.

“How _dare_ you talk to me like that,” he whispers so insidiously Dean seems to turn boneless in his father’s clutches. He may be 20 years old but his father is bigger and stronger and very terrifying. He could rip him from limb to limb and it looks like he's ready to.

Dean freezes at the implication of his words and his heart drops. He has to talk, say something because he fears what his father is thinking. “ _You_ called us. Sam talked to you! He was giving up our location before I could stop him, how were we supposed to know-”

John throws him aside and Dean feels his knees pop as he falls to the grass beneath him. “All I’ve ever done is protect you boys.”

And Dean knows that it’s the truth, his father, the man he loves would never put them in harms way but they deal with monsters. Monsters don’t care. Monsters are evil and Sam, Sam wasn’t talking to John. 

Dean slumps down, his shoulders falling, his eyes down cast. It’s almost too painful to breathe. “Sam said it was you calling. You’d been gone too long and forgot where we were. I didn’t stop him in time. I know, I’m sor-”

“I would never forget where I put you, Dean,” John towers over him, shadow harsh and intimidating as Dean looks up at his father. “You two are the most important-”

Dean knows this. At least it’s what he tells himself is true. Their father loves them and is doing this to protect them, to keep them alive, because he loves them. Dean’s never questioned his father’s motives or intentions.

“We were training and Bobby called,” Dean starts to talk, just talk because it’s all he can do right now. “He asked if we talked to you, I told him Sam did and told you our location,” Dean gets to his feet, brushing his clothes down. “He told me it was shiftshapers when Sam saw you,” Dean tells his father, eyes down.

John takes in a deep breath but Dean continues because his father needs to know it’s not his fault, it’s not Sam’s fault either.

“You showed up-or, or at least someone who looked like you showed up and Sam went to you.”

Dean looks over at the car and Sam’s still sleeping soundly in the back seat when he turns back to his father.

“I called for him but then I saw the blade and I-”

John nods and reaches out for Dean but he takes a step back and wishes Sam were awake so they could be together. 

“Dean-”

“If Sammy had-”

John takes two very determined steps toward him and grabs his jacket. “Let’s go back to the car,” John instructs and Dean nods.

It’s done. Dean knows this. 

He feels exhausted, his body almost too heavy to carry and doesn’t really know why but they both make their way back to the car.

Sam is still sleeping in the back seat, unaware of anything, maybe as he should be and Dean slides into the passengers seat, slamming the door shut just as Sam snores loud and remains asleep.

John doesn’t say anything else as he starts the car and veers back into traffic.

 

Three hours later Sam is still snoring quietly and Dean rubs at his eyes turning to his father.

“Were are we going?” he asks roughly, clearing his throat.

John spares him a second glance, “South Dakota,” he says, eyes on the road.

“We going to Bobby’s?” Dean ask past a yawn.

John nods slightly. “Dropping Sam off,” he answers.

Dean feels his blood turn cold. “Dad-”

“Think it’s about time you join me out on the road,” John steers, not bothering to look at his son.

It feels like the breath is knocked out of him, all of it, none left in his lungs to even breathe.

“No,” he gasps out quietly, his heart breaking. “But Sam-”

“You wanted to be an alpha, Dean, remember?” John speaks softly, as if the pain doesn’t matter behind his words. “It’s time you take your place. Isn’t this what you wanted?” John finally takes his eyes off the road and turns to Dean.

Dean feels everything in his body curling into itself. “Yes but-”

“You two are too close,” John speaks carefully and curls his fingers around the steering wheel, like he’s holding on to something that doesn’t want to stay put. “I knew it was possible, that you two-” John breaks off quickly and makes sure to keep his eyes off his boy. “It happens sometimes that siblings-that family links together and ma-”

But Dean doesn’t let him finish. “You can’t take me away from Sam,” Dean grasps at his chest, filled so much with anxiety and desperation. “Please, Dad.”

Leaving Sam.

Not being around him all the time. Smelling him, holding him, touching him.

Dean’s eyes sting.

“I can’t leave him. I won’t-”

But John is resolute as he drives and checks the mirror for Sam, to make sure he’s still sound asleep. “You’re too close with him, Dean.” And he makes it sound like it’s a bad thing. Something filthy and intolerable. “He needs to find someone. It’s not ok for you two to-”

“He won’t let this happen,” Dean finally admits and it’s true. As soon as Sam knows Dean is leaving he won’t let it happen. 

“This is my fault,” John mutters softly, but he doesn’t seem angry, just upset, disappointed. “You two have been inseparable your entire lives. I just hoped-”

Dean hasn’t heard a word since _dropping Sam off._

“Dean.”

On the road.

On the road with his father.

No Sam.

“Dean.”

Sam is going to freak the fuck out. Dean can already see it, there is no way that Sam is going to let this happen. He knows his brother like the back of his hand.

Will fight, will do anything to prevent it.

“Dean!”

Dean snaps his head to his dad. “What? Oh, sorry,” he says quickly and glances back at Sam. There is a manic desire to wake Sam up and tell him about their father’s plan, if Sam were awake they could double team him and attack, try to talk some sense into him.

This is crazy talk and if John would just hear them out, on why this is the worst idea he has ever had in the 20 long years of his life, but it’ll never work, Dean knows it. Trying to change John’s mind is like asking a tiger to change his stripes. Impossible. So fucking impossible he can't do anything about it.

“Look, Dad, I know I fucked up today,” Dean doesn’t actually believe the words that he’s saying but an admittance of wrong doing has always been something John expects of them and there’s a slight hope that it may work. He needs it to work. This is unimaginable. “I’m sorry. It was my fault but come on, please, don’t do this. I can take care of him better than Bobby could. You know it!”

John’s clenched resolution bares down on Dean, his eyes stone cold serious, mouth line straight and Dean tosses a desperate glance back at Sam, just in case he’s woken up.

“We’ve got about an hour before we get to Bobby’s, rest up. We’re hitting the road after we drop Sam off.”

Dean feels like he’s suffocating.

 

Sam is awake by the time they pull up to Bobby’s house but completely unaware of what’s about to happen. Just a few miles before getting there Dean opened his mouth to speak but John made sure to shut that down by cutting him a warning glance and turning the volume up.

It’s crushing that his father is turning a place with with wonderful memories into his worst nightmare. 

“How long are we going to be here?” Sam asks without much care for an answer as he climbs out of the car, already on his way to Bobby who’s waiting at the door, arms crossed over his chest with a slight smile on his face.

Good ol Bobby. What Dean would give to be able to stay, just to be with family again. He glances at his father’s tense shoulders and straight back. “Hiya, Bobby. Thanks for letting me bring the boys over.”

Bobby gives a quick nod and brushes Sam up into a hug.

At least he won’t be alone, Dean thinks to himself, past the pain and the absolute hate he feels for his father at this moment in time. 

Time to get it over with, he already knows what he’s going to tell Sam, take him up into one of the rooms to give them privacy and give him the big boy speech. Watch out for any harm. Don’t give Bobby a hard time. Wrap it up every time he plans to have sex, no matter how good it feels without one; Dean doesn’t need to come home to news that he’s going to be an uncle. Most importantly, keep training with Bobby, study hard, graduate; he doesn’t really know how long John is planning to keep him away but Sam’s going to be a senior now and once he graduates Dean is going to make sure they show up and cheer him on. At least one of them should have a defining moment of accomplishment. Then they’ll hit the road together, as a family. 

Not the dream, but clearly he has no choice in the matter and Dean, although refuses to acknowledge this is the better decision, he’ll accept it, because there is nothing else he can do. 

As soon as Dean moves to step out John ducks his head back in.

“Stay here, this won’t take long.”

And Dean is pretty certain his heart stops. Right at that moment. Just seems to give up and quit on him. “You’re not even going to let me say goodbye?” he breathes completely stunned, shocked, betrayed. 

“It will make it worse, Dean. Just let me get him inside. Start the car up, you’re driving.”

Dean can’t breathe, throat swelling painfully closed, chest tight and coiled with desperation and grief. His eyes burn as his vision starts to swim in front of him. He turns around in his seat and see’s Sam’s smiling face as he and Bobby talk. 

He can’t-

Can’t even say-

Goodbye.

“Dad,” he grasps out painfully. “Please,” he begs past a whisper.

John has the decency to look ashamed as he closes the door and heads towards the house. Sam seems to be wondering why Dean isn’t coming inside but John seems to placate him because the last thing Dean sees before he slides over and starts the car is Sam’s dimples, drawn out at the joy of being some place he can call home. Some place that feels safe and comfortable. 

Dean wipes his face as soon as John comes rushing towards the car, jumping into the back seat.

“Go, Dean. Drive!”

Like a robot, inclined to the demands of his master Dean hits the gas and the car lurches forward. It only takes a moment before he see’s Sam running after them. Face horrified and pained and Dean can’t take it. Can’t look at him anymore and he if he hears Sam’s voice screaming his name, he drowns it out with the voices of Led Zeppelin.

He drives, trying to push through the tearing of his heart. 

The unbearable pain. 

_I’m sorry Sam._


End file.
